


Bird On A Wire

by Veeebles



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Billy and Steve were together in high school and Billy disappears one day, Bird On A Wire AU, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bonnie and Clyde Style, Bottom Steve Harrington, Car Chase, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Feelings, Gay Billy Hargrove, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Meeting Again, Mentions of Drug Cartell, Motel stays, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Oral Sex, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smut, They go on the run, Top Billy Hargrove, Witness Protection Program, aftermath of break-up, fifteen years later, shoot-outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veeebles/pseuds/Veeebles
Summary: “You tell me you want to run away with me after graduation. We plan it out, I sell my car and we save up all the money we have. We graduate and say our goodbyes to the gang and get ready to leave the next day. Only, you’re not there. I’m left standing there, looking like an idiot while Max tells me you packed your Camaro and took off without me and I don’t hear a word from you for fifteen goddamn years until one day, there you are in some gas station in Seattle calling yourself Rick and getting shot in the butt. Am I missing out anything?”





	1. Chapter 1

The rain pounds on the wind screen of the rental car Steve drives as he turns in to the gas station. It’s an old model, the same one he used to drive back in high school, though this one is bright red. The bell dings for assistance and he squints through the river of water cascading down the glass. It stops when he parks at the meter under the shade of the station’s roof and he cuts the engine. He makes out the form of the gas station attendant running over from the shop and cracks the passenger side window slightly.

“What’ll it be?” comes a male voice with a southern twang to it.

“Unleaded,” Steve shouts out, tugging his wallet out of his briefcase.

“You got it.”

The guy turns and starts filling the gas and Steve fusses with his hair in the rear-view mirror. This goddamn rain flattens it. He’s lucky his meetings are done for the day, he can just get back to his hotel and have a nice warm shower and relax with a glass of wine. He’s only in town for the next two days, meeting with the sister location of his firm’s company. He’s been sat in boring meeting after boring meeting all day and all he wants is a nice night to himself.

He hears the attendant plug the gas into the car and letting it run before scuffling about and Steve can make out the form of him bending down to get something before reaching over the hood of the car. He drags a squeegee over the screen, cutting through the rainfall and clearing the view for the first time.

Steve glances up and freezes when the glass is clear enough for him to get a look at the guy. He sees pearly white teeth and he leans forward to see more. The hood of the rain jacket he wears falls across part of his face, but Steve can just make out a few tendrils of short curly, golden hair and sun- kissed skin that doesn’t belong in Seattle’s dreary weather. He leans forward some more, the light shifts and suddenly he sees a set of bright, ocean blue eyes that make his world stutter to a halt.

The guy seems to freeze too, eyes wide as he looks at Steve through the glass. He looks like he’s seen a ghost and suddenly backs away.

”Ah, alright, that’s you set, Buddy, that’ll be $37, is that cash or card?”

He bends down against the opening of the passenger side window but his hand dangles off the edge of the roof, obscuring his face.

“C-card,” Steve stutters out, mind going a mile a minute white he numbly hands over his credit card through the gap in the glass. The guy all about snatches it from him and backs away to the register beside the pump. Steve’s out the car before he can even think better of it and the guy’s eyes cut to him in a panic when he comes closer.

“You sound familiar, have we met before?”

He watches him ring the card up, chin tucked into his chest, doing his best to avoid making eye contact with Steve.

“I don’t think so, bud, I’m a southern boy, originally,” he says, his accent suddenly becoming thicker.

Steve leans down, watching those blue eyes dart up to him again and again as his hands try to stay busy on the machine.

“You ever been to Hawkins, Indiana?”

He hands his card back to him and starts to move off, Steve following close behind as he storms back over to the shop door. He tugs the rain jacket off and Steve sucks in a breath at short, cropped hair, shaved close around his ears and the back of his head, longer on top where stubborn curls are half wet from the rain, a few falling into his eyes.

“No – Tennessee, born and bred, then I moved out here ‘bout three years ago.”

He looks so much like him. His build is thicker, he’s taller but still not as tall as Steve. His skin is paler but still has that American honey glow of someone who has spent half a lifetime in sun. His hair is darker, curled and sits the same even though its short. His eyes are the same blue, his voice even sounds the same despite the husk of age and fake accent.

“Billy? Is that you?”

He watches the guy mask a look of sheer panic before flashing a smile that doesn’t go all the way to his eyes.

“No, Sir, my name is Rick Delaney.”

He’s still avoiding his eye. He shifts from foot to foot, nervous and unsure. When Steve notices it, he realises how shy this guy is, so unlike the Billy he knew who was a cocky asshole in any situation. The last time he had spoken to Max, about three years ago, she had told him that Billy had called her from California, told her he was living the dream life by the sea. This couldn’t be him. Not here in dreary, cold Seattle.

Steve looks at the sewn name badge on the man’s overalls, can see ‘Rick’ blazing back at him like a taunt. Out of habit, his eyes slide to the side and he feels his resolve leave him when a bare chest is all that peeks out at him through the collar of his overalls.  

 “The guy I knew had a medallion necklace; his Mom gave it to him before she died. He never took it off.”

‘Rick’ shrugs, gives a nervous chuckle and keeps avoiding Steve’s gaze, “sorry, man, I’m not your guy.”

A chill runs over Steve’s body.

“No, I guess you’re not.”

Steve turns and goes back to his car, feeling as if he is in a dream. He can hear the rain pounding down around him, can hear the ring of the bell on the door to the shop as Rick closes it behind himself. He can feel the cold, wet handle of the car door as he pulls it open and slides back in. It’s as if it is all far away, a fuzzy echo like in a dream. He pulls the door shut behind him and sighs, gripping the steering wheel in his hands like a lifeline.

Old, familiar pain settles in his chest. He feels a lump rise to his throat and stubbornly tries to swallow it away. The ache that came with Billy, with the memories of him settles into his bones. He drives off, leaving the gas station in his rear-view mirror and heads back to his hotel, thinking to swap the glass of wine out for a whole bottle.

 

 

 

V

 

 

 

Billy thumbs the dull gold of the medallion in his hand.

He takes a drink from his beer bottle, thuds his head back against the car he leans against in the middle of the shop. It’s an old beetle wagon that has a blown exhaust, he’s got until tomorrow to fix it and today has shaken him to his core, so he closed up shop early and grabbed a few beers, finding a seat on the floor to drink his memories away.

It’s not working.

Instead, he had lifted the floorboards in the back room and pulled out the safe box that holds his mother’s necklace, the ‘California’ keychain Max had given him for his eighteenth birthday, his old ID and passport and the strip of photographs from the photobooth at the mall.

He puts down his beer and lights a cigarette, thumbing at the old photo paper as he takes a drag. The people in the photos are almost strangers to him now. They had just turned eighteen at the time, birthdays within a week of each other, like their names; Harrington and Hargrove, too close in the alphabet to ever be separated. Every class they had been seated near each other, graduation he had crossed the stage right before Steve had, waited for him on the other side.

He looked so different in those photos. His hair had been longer then, his signature curls always styled to perfection. Steve’s tugging on them in one of the photos, arms around each other’s shoulders, a curl pulled taught in one of Steve’s hands, both faces laughing at the camera. The next one has Billy leaning over to lick a strip up Steve’s cheek and the brunet’s face is contorted in disgust but he’s still laughing. Billy hardly remembers a time they weren’t laughing. Always teasing each other or bickering, Billy pushing at Steve until the guy would crack and call him an asshole and shove him away with a grin on his pretty face.

Billy thumbs at the photo with Billy smiling at the camera, Steve’s lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, his hands around his waist.

He takes another drag from his cigarette and sighs it out.

Seeing him today, after so long had been a trip and a half. The moment that pretty face he would know anywhere had peered up at him from inside a beamer for fuck sake. He had panicked, backed off and tried to throw up as much space between them as possible. Steve had pushed at him again and again until Billy nearly took a swing at him out of sheer panic.

Even after fifteen years the guy’s presence messed with his brain. All he had wanted to do was throw him against that stupid car of his and kiss him like he had been dreaming of doing for fifteen goddamn years.

But he couldn’t. Things were different now. He was no longer Billy Hargrove. He had a target on his back and he couldn’t afford to drag Steve in to this mess. He had watched the car roll away and immediately closed up shop and called the bureau to demand a relocation and ID change. Now, he had to wait until morning and then he would be out of there and Steve would be none the wiser.

He stubs out the last of his cigarette and closes his eyes, head back against the side of the car. He allows himself this moment and only this moment. Colours flash through his head, the smell of cigarettes and the taste of cheap whiskey. He can hear the rustle of pine trees in a night wind, can hear Steve’s laugh up on the Quarry. He can taste his tongue in his mouth and feel his skin beneath his fingers. He can smell him, the spiced orange and cinnamon of him. He can hear the rumble of the Camaro while they kissed in the backseat and shoved their hands down each others pants.

The ring of the bell startles him out of his wandering mind and he jumps to his feet, braced for a fight. He relaxes when he realises it’s the bell of the gas booth and sighs, shoves the items of the box into his pants and hurries out the door to the shop.

He sees the figure of a man standing near the gas pump, shrouded in the night.

“Sir, the pump is closed, she won’t be running again until 6:30am.”

The figure just comes closer, Billy sighs in annoyance and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Sir, we’re closed.”

“William Hargrove, as I live and breathe.”

The figure steps into the light and Billy’s heart stutters in his chest.

“Oh shit.”

“What? No hug for your old man?”

Billy backs away, eyes trained on his father’s every move. He looks old, older than his age. His eyes alight with fire as he walks forwards slowly, the gun in his hand glinting in the neon lights of the station.

“You stay the hell away from me.”

Neil laughs, thumbs at the trigger and looks Billy up and down.

“Fifteen years and your accent still sounds phoney.”

“Get the hell away from me.”

Billy goes to run but Neil grabs him hard, shoves him against the wall of the station and glares into his face. He presses the nozzle of the gun against his chin and grins.

“Oh no, Billy Boy, we’ve got some unfinished business to clean up.”

Billy grits his teeth and stays still, mind going a mile a minute as he tries to figure out what the hell he should do.

“You ratted me out, you little snake, and now you’ll pay for it.”

He clicks the hammer down and the nozzle is cold against Billy’s skin, he struggles again but Neil holds him strong and fast, he knows all Billy’s moves.

“Give my best to your mother for me.”

The blare of a car horn has Neil turning his head and Billy grabs the opportunity. He throws his weight against his father, pushes the hand holding the gun away and a shot rings out as he fires, bullet hitting against the station wall. He kicks the legs out from under him and watches him fall. He turns and stamps his hand down on his wrist and Neil shouts out in pain, hand releasing its hold on the revolver. Billy kicks it away and runs, sees a car sitting on the road opposite the station.

“Hey!” he shouts, waving his arms as he runs to it, “hey, open up!”

The car starts to rev and move.

A shot fires out behind him and Billy ducks but keeps running, the car’s window rolls down and moves into the light and flashes the BMW symbol adorning its bonnet. Another shot rings out and pain flares in Billy’s ass cheek, shooting all down his leg as he leans his weight on it mid run and shout out in pain.

He stumbles and catches the side of the car, seeing a familiar face in the driver’s seat looking at him in horror.

“Billy? Is that you?”

Billy could cry from relief, he really could.

“Yeah it’s me, open the goddamn door, Princess!”

Steve surges into action as another shot rings out, hitting the road beside Billy. He leans over, car still moving and unlocks the door, shoving it open and Billy climbs in, leaning on his side to avoid putting pressure on his ass.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He yells as Steve speeds off, leaving his father and the gas station in the dust.

“Me? What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Billy grunts as Steve takes a corner too fast, ass banging against the car door, “getting shot in the goddamn ass.”

Steve drives frantic and fast but he’s getting him far away from his Dad and it’s a relief. His eyes keep darting to the rear-view mirror and back, but nobody is following them.

Steve glares at him over the console, shifts gears and presses on the gas, “what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

 

 

 

V

 

 

 

Steve manages to sneak Billy all the way up to his penthouse suite before someone nearly spots them.

A bell-hop rolls a carriage heavy with suitcases out of the lift as they round the corner but he manages to haul Billy in the door of his room before he raises his eyes and sees them.

Billy groans and limps his way into the bathroom and Steve hears the shower running.

“Steve, I need some gauze and some whiskey or something, anything you’ve got and tweezers, if you have them.”

Steve locks the door behind them and hurries to get the things. The shock of what had happened, of finding Billy here, in Seattle of all places, of seeing him get shot in the goddamn butt, powers his movements. He frantically grabs at the mini fringe, gets the small bottle of whiskey and throws it shut. He’s got some of those nice, linen napkins in the bathroom and some tape in his briefcase which he grabs too. Tweezers, he’s not sure he has any of them. He thinks about calling the reception desk but figures it’s not really something Hotels provide for, even fancy ones like these.

He pauses at the bathroom door, “Billy, I’ve got the stuff – can I come in?”

He hears a muffles curse, “yeah, I’m naked, though – do you mind?”

Steve rolls his eyes, feeling old anger he’s stamped down bubble to the surface, “it’s not like I ever minded before.”

He pushes the door open and sets the stuff on the counter, turning to see Billy wobbling around in the shower. His curls plaster to his head as he steps in and out of the water, angled to wash the wound at his backside. The glass partition that surrounds him fogs up and Steve can just make out the shadow of him behind it, his head poking over the top as he leans over to grab at the small pile of napkins.

“No tweezers? Jesus, a Princess like you should have tweezers,” he mutters and Steve frowns, crossing his arms at the old nickname.

Billy fumbles and grabs hold of the letter opener Steve had left there this morning after getting ready for his meeting in a rush. He turns and Steve can’t see what he’s doing through the glass but the clink of something metal hitting the floor has him guessing he’s managed to use it to dislodge the bullet.

“Get shot often, do you?”

Billy curses as he presses a napkin soaked in whiskey against the wound, grabs onto the edge of the partition, “Jesus, no – only twice before – could you hand me another napkin?”

“Sure thing,” Steve says, thrusting the napkins at Billy and glares when he meets his eyes, “Rick.”

Billy pales a little, “ah, yeah, I can explain that one.”

“I hope you can,” Steve says, sitting himself down on the toilet and crossing his arms, glaring across the room at Billy as he cuts the tape with his teeth and tapes a napkin to his skin as a make-shift gauze.

“How about I remind you, hm?” He says, anger surging through him anew as the shock washes off and his mind comes back to him, “you punch the shit out of me at the Byers’ place, then a few weeks later you give me some half assed apology and we become friends.”

Billy quietly presses the gauze against his skin and tugs a towel off the nearby rack as Steve speaks, looking sheepish and dare Steve say it – scared.

“We hang around and then eventually start fooling around.”

“Steve - ”

Steve cuts another glare to him as he wipes at his curls, “you were the first boy I ever kissed. First boy I ever slept with and for some reason – god knows why – I wind up falling for you.”

His voice catches in his throat and Billy’s eyes soften but that only makes him angrier.

“You tell me you want to run away with me after graduation. We plan it out, I sell my car and we save up all the money we have. We graduate and say our goodbyes to the gang and get ready to leave the next day. Only, you’re not there. I’m left standing there, looking like an idiot while Max tells me you packed your Camaro and took off without me and I don’t hear a word from you for fifteen goddamn years until one day, there you are in some gas station in Seattle calling yourself Rick and getting shot in the ass. Am I missing out anything?”

By the time he’s finished ranting, Billy has climbed out of the shower wrapped in a towel and standing there, dripping on the rug and looking guilt-ridden and pale. Steve is breathing hard, hands clenched into fists at his sides and watches as Billy leans against the counter, favouring the side that hasn’t been shot.  Tears blue Steve’s vision and he turns away with a curse, angrily wiping at his eyes and staring at the flowery wallpaper until he’s sure he’s not going to burst into tears right here and now.

“You’re a goddamn bastard,” he mutters eventually, turning to Billy who looks like he’s about to cry himself and Steve hates that all he wants to do it go to him and wrap himself around him and just forget about the past fifteen years without him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low and quiet, eyes cast to the floor.

Steve laughs, harsh and bitter, “you’re sorry. Great. That’s just great, everything’s okay now then, huh? You’re _sorry_.”

He turns away and rips the door open, breathing in cool air as he steps out of the humid, muggy heat of the bathroom. He storms his way over to the mini fridge and grabs that bottle of wine he’s been thinking about all day and pours himself a generous glass. He hears Billy hobbling about behind him but he ignores him as he takes a long drink.

He turns and sees Billy perched on the end of the bed, looking ashen and grey, staring at the floor.

“Are you alright?”

Billy looks at him with an unsteady gaze, “yeah, I’m okay. Just feel a little woozy is all.”

“I should call a doctor -”

“-no!” Billy says suddenly, hand lashing out to catch Steve’s and tug the phone out of his hand, slamming it back into the holder. He fixes him with a fierce gaze, blue eyes burning through the haze.

“No doctors.”

“Billy - ”

“No, Steve. Just leave it. I just need a lie down.”

His hand releases its hold on Steve’s arm and it feels like a brand, burned through the sleeve of his suit jacket and shirt to sear his skin. He watches in a daze and Billy turns onto his stomach, some blood seeping through the towel he wears around his waist already.

“Billy,” Steve says, coming around the side of the bed to perch by Billy’s bare feet, “what’s going on? Was that a hold-up, or is someone after you?”

Billy is silent, golden curls drying on to the plush pillow he’s got his face buried into.

“You still sound like a Mom,” he mumbles into the pillow. Steve smiles despite himself, flashes of the group of kids he used to herd around the town with Billy winking at him and telling him he was a hot Mother-Bear running through his mind.

“Billy, talk to me,” he says softly, leaning in closer when Billy mumbles into the pillow.

“Tomorrow,“ he says tiredly, head turning to look at Steve with sleepy eyes, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve watches blue eyes slide shut and the tension release from Billy’s shoulders. Soft snores that he used to listen to every night fill the air and he sighs. His eyes wander over him; all golden skin and toned muscle. He tucks the end of the comforter over him and stands back.

He grabs the rest of his wine and goes into the living suite of the room, pulls a blanket out of the closet and settles himself down on the plush couch by the coffee table. He strips down to his boxers and scrubs a hand over his face, the events of the day catching up to him suddenly.

He drinks the rest of the wine and rolls over, listening to Billy’s faint snores and slips into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

V


	2. Chapter 2

“I have every right to be rude, I talked to the guy last night and he said he would have my records changed and a new identity for me first thing this morning.”

Steve shifts as he wakes up, blinking against the bright light of the overcast, Seattle sky blazing through his windows.

“Hell, I want to go above his head – yes – yes, I already told him that, I – what?”

He scrubs a hand over his face and gets up, tugging a sweater on and walks in the direction of the bedroom, following Billy’s voice.

“Try my name; Rick, Rick Delaney.”

He finds him lying half on his side, the hotel’s phone to his ear and his hand holding the towel to the wound in his backside, dried blood staining it.

“You have no record of a Rick Delaney?”

Billy looks pale, frantic as he listens to whoever he’s on the phone with, frowning at the wall at what they are saying.

“That’s impossible – try Turnbull, Jodi Turnbull.”

He pauses, listening, frown deepening.

“Mathew Carlson.”

He sits up with a grunt, scowling and gripping the phone with both hands, “try William Hargrove, see if anybody by that name exists.”

Steve hears the voice on the other line reply before the line goes dead. Billy slams it back into the holder and leans back into the pillows with a curse, scrubbing his hands across his face.

He notices Steve hovering in the doorway and his gaze softens in to one of despair, he shakes his head and looks around him, “something’s gone wrong – I don’t seem to exist anymore.”

What the hell does he mean by that?

“Billy, what is going on? You need to talk to me, I can’t help you if I don’t know anything.”

Billy sighs and shakes his head, curls falling into his eyes, “I don’t know what’s going on, I – this doesn’t make any sense.”

Steve sits down on the bed, “how about you start by telling me why you’re being chased by some guy with a gun?”

Billy looks at him for a long time. Steve thinks he’s not going to tell him, what if Billy’s just going to keep his secrets and wait until Steve turns his back and just run off again, disappear for another fifteen years and leave Steve right back at square one?

A knock at the door has them both jumping and Billy looks at him wildly.

“You expecting someone?”

Steve sighs as his thoughts come back to him, “I’ve got a standing order for breakfast every morning at 7am,” he says, getting to his feet.

Billy lurches up, grabs Steve’s arm, “you got a gun?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Billy hisses, grabbing his overalls from last night and tugging them on.

“Billy, what the hell are you doing?”

“Steve, get dressed – fast,” he says, darting about, limping on his bad leg and goes to the window, looking out at the city way below.

“Billy, will you calm down, it’s just my breakfast.”

“Steve. I’ve got guys hunting me, four attempts have been made on my life and if you open that door, you could end up dead.”

Steve sighs as he watches Billy tug on his wife-beater and boots, tying them frantically, “Billy, listen to me. We are at the top of one of the biggest hotels in Seattle, presidents stay here for fuck’s sake because it has the best security – you are safe here, stop being so paranoid.”

Billy scoffs and disappears into the bathroom, “paranoid keeps me alive,” he shouts out from within and reappears as Steve passes, another knock sounding at the door.

“Don’t open that door,” he warns, grabbing Steve after he pulls on a pair of sweats and fusses with his hair in the mirror.

“Billy, please, this guy comes every morning. Just have a seat, chill the fuck out, we’ll have some breakfast and you can tell me all about this mess.”

“Wait! Steve, wait!”

“What?”

“Don’t take the chain out of the door, just rattle it to make him think you are.”

Steve gives him an unamused look, “really?”

“Just, please, for me,” Billy says and Steve wants to laugh in his face.

“Okay, _sure_ , like this?” he asks, rattling the chain dramatically and Billy rolls his eyes at him.

“Glad you’re getting your kicks out of this.”

He chuckles and goes to open the door. As soon as he turns the handle it is thrown open, gets jammed on the chain and a hand comes through the gap, grabs at Steve and wraps its fingers around his neck.

“Ow – oh God!”

Billy surges into action, grabs Steve and starts ramming his body against the door, jamming the guy’s arm in the crack. Steve hears a grunt of pain from behind it and the fingers around his neck tighten then release.

Steve falls to the floor gasping for breath and crawls over to his briefcase. He can hear Billy thudding his body against the door still, male voices shouting though the crack and Steve coughs as he tugs his shoes on and grabs the Farrah-Fawcet spray out of his bag.

He runs to the door and shoves Billy out of the way, pointing the nozzle of the bottle through the crack and presses down. The guy shouts in pain as Steve’s lovely, good, _expensive_ hairspray shoots straight into his eyes and he falls to the ground. Billy shoves the door shut and unlatches the chain to open it. Steve grabs his briefcase in hand as Billy hauls him out, jumping over the guys lying on the floor, hands against their eyes and they run down the hallway.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Steve sets up a manta, as he runs. He’s been spending too much time with Dustin he thinks idly as Billy grabs him and tugs him towards the stairs.

“Holy shit, what the fuck did it tell you?” he yells as they run down, taking the steps two at a time. The reach the ground floor and Steve grabs his hand, tugs him to the door marked ‘car-park’ and they run to his beamer.

“Who the hell are those guys?”

“Friends of my Dad’s,” Billy says, breathlessly as they reach the beamer.

Steve looks at him over the roof, “your _Dad’s_?”

“Yeah, he’s got dirty guys all over the place. Been hunting for me for years.”

“What? Why?”

He growls impatiently, “I’ll tell you when we get out of here, please tell me you’ve got the keys!”

Steve digs in his briefcase and only has a brief moment of nearly falling out of his body in fright before his fingers grip the ridges metal. He tugs them out and opens the car, both of them jumping in.

Billy slams the door shut behind him and looks at Steve grinning, “I can’t believe you took them out with your fucking hair spray.”

Steve laughs and revs up the engine, floors the gas and peels out of the parking lot and into the city.

 

 

 

V

 

 

 

 

When they are far enough away from the hotel, Billy relaxes a little, sitting back in the leather seats of Steve’s car. His eyes dart about and his leg jiggles but he feels safer the more distance they throw up between them and his father’s wackos.

Steve’s holding up surprisingly well for someone who just got attacked. Figures, all that shit they went through back in the day with the upside down and the Demo-Dogs has built them both up, prepared them for a fight. But this time, its not supernatural monsters they can just bash and cover up, its real people, real shit that’s after them this time around.

Billy grunts as he tries to sit comfortably in the car, his ass feels like it’s on fire, pain shooting down his thigh and he leans on his side, the blood circulation cutting off and making it impossible to get comfortable.

“Billy, you have to tell me what the hell is going on, why is your Dad trying to kill you?”

Billy grunts as he sits up properly “he got into the drug business back in Cali – not taking them, just moving it and selling it. Powder mostly, and he got into some trouble for it. That’s why we moved to Hawkins. His guys got busted and he packed up and ran before they could link him to it. Turns out he was still working it while living there. I walked in on him and his buddies one night when Susan took Max out for the day and I was supposed to be out.”

He pauses, glancing to Steve to see his reaction but the guy just drives, frowning but listening to everything Billy says avidly.

“He blackmailed me into it, said I had to learn respect and responsibility. Made me run a job for him but I got busted. I testified against him and he’s been hunting me since. Got put into a witness protection program and I’ve been living with fake identities since.”

Steve indicates to get on the highway and runs his fingers through his already messed up hair, “if you testified why isn’t he in jail?”

“He _was_ in jail but he got out with a deal. Ratted out on his buddies. He must have guys in the bureau dealing with me, found me out somehow and wiped my records.”

“What did he blackmail you with?”

Billy looks at him sheepishly, “he said he would give me a cut of the money. A big cut.”

Steve’s head whips to him and Billy has to reach over and press against the wheel as he turns it, swerving a little out of lane, “are you kidding me? You did all of this for _money_?”

“It was one job, all I had to do was run some product from one location to the next and that would be the end of it.”

“And you believed that?”

“I was a _kid_ , Steve, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

Steve scoffs, presses harder on the gas, “oh yeah, I remember,” he drawls sarcastically, all fired up now, “you always did love being a big shot – anything for a kick, anything to rub your nose at authority”

Billy girts his teeth against the grin, there he is, the King Steve he had loved so much.

“Were do you get off with that attitude, huh? Billy Hargrove; asshole. Whatever happened to you? Where’s the guy that used to walk right into danger; swing a bat at a hoard of Demo-Dogs to save a bunch of kids?”

Steve laughs bitterly, “You know nothing about me.”

“Oh, baby, I know everything about you,” Billy teases, grinning at the blush that highlights Steve’s cheeks.

“Things are different now, Bill,” he says, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter, but he slows down a little, “I’ve got a new life now; a good job, a nice apartment, a – a boyfriend.”

Billy scoffs, “yeah, I heard.”

“You heard?”

Billy thumbs at a loose thread in his overalls, “I kept tabs.”

Its silent for a bit, Billy feeling his cheeks redden with the admission.

He’s spent years riddled with guilt over leaving Steve. Truthfully, he had wanted the money his Dad promised him because he wanted to give Steve a good life. The guy had told him endlessly that he couldn’t care less about all that, would be happy to live in a box as long as he had Billy by his side. It had torn at Billy’s heart that King Steve, the guy with everything - the big house and the fancy car, the rich parents and the trust fund would give it all up to run away with him. He had wanted that, more than anything. Steve had become his entire world until he couldn’t imagine any life without him. So, when he got wrapped up in a bad situation, when the money got offered to him, he took it without hesitation. He knew it was stupid, but he was a dumb teenager who thought it would be as easy as that. There was no downside to it as far as he could see; do the job, get the money, be rid of his Dad and leave Hawkins in the dirt. He wanted more than anything to pack his car up and have Steve there beside him, singing along to his shitty music and peeling down the highway towards a new life together.

Having to leave all that, having to walk out on Steve and be forced to live without him was the hardest thing he had ever done.

He had gone nearly nine years before he had cracked. The WPP had told him time and time again that under no circumstances could he be in contact with anyone from his past life, not even Max. They screened recorded calls to her, made up some shit about him living his best life away from her and that seemed to satisfy her. But Steve, Steve was a stubborn pain in the ass who kept the officers on their toes, and it had made Billy beam in pride when they told him he had been looking for him.

Then, nine years into his new life, he had gotten drunk and taken a chance. He had looked up records of Hawkins and his heart had stopped in his chest when he saw that Steve had moved away, became a hot-shot lawyer in his father’s firm and even worse, gotten a boyfriend in the mix. It was one thing knowing Steve was missing him, quite another to find out he had moved on.

Billy couldn’t blame him, he would be an asshole for doing that. What the hell was Steve supposed to do? Live the rest of his life loving his shadow? Of course not. It didn’t mean that it had hurt any less.

“There’s a mall up ahead, we can stop for some food and get you a change of clothes,” Steve said quietly, signalling to get off the motorway.

Billy just nods, weighed down with heavy thoughts and just picks at the thread in his overalls.

 

 

 

V

 

 

They eat, they get some supplies from a pharmacy and Billy properly patches himself up in a public bathroom and they realise they need to get him a new set of clothes. His overalls are torn and stained with blood and make him stand out among the Mall shoppers.

Steve realises his wallet was left behind in the hotel room in his mad dash to get out and he nearly throws a full-on tantrum in panic.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, the hotel will have wired it back to your address by now.”

“What if those friends of your Dad’s stole it?”

Billy just rolls his eyes, both of them in the disabled bathroom stall as Billy rubs some antiseptic cream over his wound and Steve presses a new, clean gauze to it.

“Trust me, they don’t give a shit about you or your money, they’ll be getting paid plenty just to get me.”

“Why is he wanting you dead, though?” Steve asks, putting the used supplies in the bin, “I mean, I get he would be angry for what you did, but do you really think he wants to _kill_ you? You’re his son.”

Billy turns away and makes himself busy washing his hands and tugging his overalls back up over his ass. It doesn’t look like Steve is going to get a reply.

He knew Billy’s dad was controlling, he’d seen it plenty of times, how panicked Billy could get if Max ever made him late for curfew, or how many times when they first got together Billy would rise early to run home and climb back into his bedroom window before his father noticed him missing. He knew Billy didn’t like the guy, he figured he resented him for saddling him with Max and packing his life up and forcing him to move away from his beloved California. But, still, wanting to kill your own son? That’s a but much. Even after what Billy did. Surely, he knew he would get caught?

He follows Billy out into the mall, ignoring the looks that are thrown their way. Steve’s just in a pair of sweats and an old sweatshirt he used to work out in the day before. Billy looks worse; his overalls torn and stained with blood and dirt. His face regained some of it colour after they had eaten and gotten him cleaned up properly and he wasn’t limping as bad after downing some aspirin. They needed a change of clothes, but Steve had used the last of the cash he had on him to pay for the meal and the medical supplies.

“I got a buddy in Oregon – that was one of my re-locations. When we get there -”

“- When we get where?”

Billy shoves the doors to the Mall open and limps down the stairs into the parking lot, eyes darting around as he goes.

“Oregon City, I’ve got some money put away there, we can -”

“It’s a three-hour drive to Oregon!”

“That’s not far.”

Steve stops at the beamer, glares over the roof at Billy who glares back.

“I have a life, Billy. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow with my company and then I’m expected back home.”

Something shifts across Billy’s eyes and Steve suddenly feels guilty.

“Please, Steve, just this one favour and I’ll be out of your life for good.”

That gives him pause. So this is it, Billy is going to get his money and would go back in to hiding. He would disappear for another fifteen years or maybe more. This might be the last time he would ever see him again. His chest dulls in pain and he tears his gaze away from Billy’s, leaning against the side of the car and staring at the ground.

What is he doing? Steve had moved on from all this. It had taken him years to get over Billy and now, he’s not sure if he ever did. But it’s all in the past now – that’s where it should be. Billy is a different person now and so is Steve. They both live separate lives. Steve’s got his boyfriend at home, probably wondering why he hasn’t called. He’s got his Father breathing down his neck about this merge happening with his company soon, his mother is hounding him about getting settled down and marrying – even if it is with a man. He can’t be getting pulled back into his past like this, Billy isn’t good for him anymore. Being to close to the guy muddles his brain, makes him miss the life they were going to have together.

But that life never happened. Billy made sure of that. Steve always believed that everything that happens, happens for a reason. Maybe he and Billy were just never meant to be. They had loved with too much passion, too much fire and heat between them. Their relationship had been amazing, but it wasn’t sustainable. Steve’s life he had now is sustainable. Its safe, he’s got plenty money coming in, a beautiful home, a loving partner and he’s an idiot if he thinks he can throw it all away to run off with the boy he’s been in love with since he was seventeen years old.

He turns, fixes Billy with a look, “I give you this one lift to Oregon, and I never see you again.”

Billy’s eyes soften, dance all over Steve’s face before finally meeting his own eyes.

“You got it, Princess.”

Steve nods and tugs the car open, slides in and revs up the engine.


	3. Chapter 3

Billy sleeps for most of the drive, which Steve is grateful for. He needs some rest, his skin tinged pale and he keeps shifting in his seat, grunting in pain despite the aspirin he’s been taking. Steve opted for something stronger but Billy had refused, saying he wanted to keep his wits about him and that he could take the pain.

Same old, hot-shot, Billy Hargrove.

The drive is nice, it’s been too long since Steve’s just got in a car and drove somewhere. He’s too used to efficiency; hopping from plane ride to plane ride, meeting clients and associates in fancy restaurants and nice houses. He’s gotten used to the high life, used to the money coming in and the status he’s been given.

His father had always wanted him to join his firm, to take on the company one day and follow in his footsteps. Steve had fought him on it in his youth, hated the idea of turning out like him. He used to watch his parents pack up their suitcases and bid him goodbye as they went on these trips around the county that Steve himself now does. Going to benefits and big, fancy black tie she-bangs that take up weeks in beautiful places.

It’s strange, getting perspective on it. As a kid, he always assumed his parents preferred being away, he knew they enjoyed the high life, calling home every other week to check on Steve and wiring him money to keep him going. For Steve, it had been hell, coupled with the Upside Down, he had hated that big, empty house and that pool.

Billy had filled that space for him. The kids had too. He loved having them running about in the house, filling it with movement and noise and giving him something other than his loneliness to think about. Now, he sometimes feels guilty for spending so much time away from home, from his boyfriend and their life together, but he needs it. He needs time alone with his thoughts. His boyfriend knows nothing about Billy, about his past life in Hawkins. He sometimes sees Dustin, gets him over for dinner occasionally, but that’s about it. He always feels like he’s living a double life, never really telling anyone who he really is, letting his boyfriend love someone that isn’t entirely there.

Billy knows him through and through, despite what Steve argues about it. Billy knows him down to his soul. He knows that Steve sometimes wakes up in a panic because he dreams of Demo-Dogs and the Upside Down. He knows that Steve likes to have all the lights on when he’s alone somewhere, so he can see around every corner and know there is nothing lurking in any shadows. He knows that Steve goes a bit mad when he’s alone with his thoughts too long, gets wrapped up in his anxiety and sadness and is so good at pulling him out of those dark places. He used to take his hand and tug him against his chest and kiss him until he was laughing and completely and wonderfully distracted.

Billy is the only person in the whole world he has ever really been himself around. The guy lights up his life, makes him brave, makes him live a fast life, makes him do what he wants to do and say what he wants to say. He’s missed this way of living. Wishes the fifteen years could fade away and everything could be back to the way it was, that day he packed up his life and was more than ready to hit the unknown roads with him and live just them two.

They reach Oregon City by mid-afternoon and Steve leans over the console to shake Billy awake. He comes to kicking, head darting about, looking for a fight. He settles when he sees Steve, smiles and scrubs his hands over his face.

He looks like hell, they both do. Steve is sore from the drive and wants nothing more than a nice, hot bath and a big bed to sleep forever in.

“Take a right up here,” Billy says, voice hoarse and husky and Steve ignores the tinge in his gut that responds to that.

He follows Billy’s instruction until the reach a part of the city marked ‘The Village,’ finds somewhere to park on the side of the street and gets out.

This place is nice. It’s all boutiques and cute little artisan cafes. There’s a fountain in the centre of the street forming a mini-roundabout and flags and lanterns and colours are strung up everywhere. Its one of those quirky streets with the high-end shops that rich people like to wander in to and buy overpriced items for the fancy, signature bags and labels.

Billy looks around, eyes darting about to every person.

“It’s around here somewhere, if I can just remember.”

“What is?”

“The shop I used to work in. They gave me an identity as a cleaner in one of the places on this street, was about five years into the program, my second location -”

“- Matty?”

They both turn to look across the street where a small, tidy looking older man is paused halfway through fixing a sign for a boutique reading ‘ _Ron’s Dresser’s.’_

“Ah,” Billy laughs nervously and gives the man a small wave and turns to Steve, “okay, I need to talk to you -”

“- Don’t tell me,” Steve says, a slow grin spreading across his face as he watches the little man wave back enthusiastically, calling out ‘Matty,’ again.

“Could you just go and wait in the car, please.”

Steve is full on grinning at this point, watching the guy jumping up and down in excitement, waving his arms around and yelling Billy’s fake name over and over again.

“You were a hairdresser?”

Billy grits his teeth at Steve’s grin, “you didn’t get much of a choice in work,” he grumbles as Steve full on laughs, bracing his hand against Billy’s arm.

Billy looks about ready to punch Steve but the man is now running across the street, jumping over a plant pot with a little kick and throws his arms around Billy’s neck.

“Matty! Oh I can’t believe you’re here!” He squeals, hanging off Billy’s neck as the blond laughs and throws a glare to Steve who is shaking with laughter at this point.

“Oh, I just can’t believe it, _Matty_!” the guy says, flouncing about in excitement, “oh it’s been so long, Ron is going to shit, he’s going to _die_.”

Billy stands rigidly, obviously torn between identities, trying not to put on a show for Steve who is enjoying this far too much.

“So, what? Cat got your tongue? Say hi to an old friend!”

Billy glances at Steve then back to the man before cocking his hip and standing in the sassiest pose Steve has ever seen, “hi, Xander,” he says in the most feminine voice Steve has ever heard and he fights not to let his jaw drop.

“Oh, Matty, babe!” the guy gushes and hugs him again.

A number of girls come screaming out of the boutique and run over too, all of them wrapping themselves around Billy, calling out ‘Matty’ and fussing with his hair and clothes while Steve stands back and watches, face aching with how hard he’s grinning.

“Oh, Matty what is going on with this hair? My God, it’s so short – what happened to the golden locks?”

Billy swipes his hand over his hair, pretending to flip it over his shoulder, “oh that? Oh, it was getting in my way, wanted to go for something dramatic.”

“I like it,” one of the girl’s coos.

“Who is this?” another one asks, smiling at Steve.

“Uh, this is my – um -”

“- Boyfriend?” Xander supplies with a sparkling grin.

“No!”

“No, oh, no he’s just a friend.”

They all take that in their stride, wrapping Steve up in sweet smelling hugs and Steve just can’t get over the way Billy walks all swaying hips, flicking his hands around dramatically, looking so unlike Billy and it is something Steve is _never_ going to let himself forget.

They all pull them towards the shop, fussing over Billy’s hair and clothes and gaggling in excitement at seeing him again.

The boutique is all marbled floors and high-end, back light mirrors, customers of all ages looking dressed to the nines, hair silky and shining, styled to perfection. Opera music plays in the background and Steve feels grubby and gross looking as he passes a woman in a clean-cut tailored suit, eyeing him up and down with distaste.

A man stands, dressed in a salon robe, holding a pair of scissors and beams when he sees them all come through the door. He’s handsome, got red hair styled back from his face, light make-up adorning his cheeks and his lips shine with gloss. His blue eyes find Billy and his whole face lights up.

“Matty Carlson, what a surprise to see _you_ again.”

He wraps Billy up in a hug, holding him close, closer than the rest of them did and longer and Steve finds his hands itching to pull them away from each other.

“Are you coming back to us?”

Billy sighs dramatically, pulling away but his hands go down to hold Ron’s, thumbs stroking over his skin, “no, Ronnie, I told you, I’m doing my own thing now, I just came back for a visit and to get my money.”

Ron sulks at that, “fine, it’s in the back where you left it.”

Steve’s eyes are stuck on the way Billy holds Ron, how the red head’s eyes linger on Billy, speaking of something old passed between them and suddenly Steve feels like a third-wheel.

“You got to let us fix you up, babe,” Xander says, eyeing Billy’s torn overalls and dirty hair.

“Both of you,” one of the girls says to Steve, plucking at his sweatshirt, “on the house!”

“Oh, no, we can’t ask you to do that,” Steve says, tugging the sleeves of his sweater down.

“Nonsense,” Ron says with a dismissive flick of his wrist, “we insist, anything for our Matty.”

Steve smiles stiffly at him as he pulls Billy away to the back to get his things. Steve cranes his neck and just catches Ron’s arm wrapping around Billy’s waist before they disappear behind a chiffon curtain. His legs move to follow them, but the group of girls and Xander whisk him away to one of the salon chairs. The girls take his measurements and go fussing over the clothes they have in stock while Xander fingers at his hair and pulls a cape around him.

Steve looks at himself in the huge mirror and is suddenly grateful for the potential for a pamper, looking drawn and tired, hair a flat mess atop his head.

“You know, Matty is a genius,” Xander says as he combs his fingers through Steve’s hair, checking its cut and the shedding, “the Michelangelo of hair, we lost so much business when he went away.”

Steve smiles as he fusses over him, washing his hair in the basin with lovely, sweet smelling shampoos. He chats away happily with the bubbly man, lets him dry and style his hair, asking him how he usually does it and styling it the same, adding a little curled quiff at the front.

The girls drag him into a dressing room and set him up with a new pair of jeans, a patterned shirt all Hawaiian flowers and leaves, open at the front a little and tucked into his jeans They fit him a nice pair of black ankle boots and by the end of it, Steve is feeling like a million bucks.

He comes out of changing to a chorus of whoops and approvals, Xander looking pleased as punch with the result, pulling him over to a standing mirror.

Steve stares in awe, looking completely transformed, gone is the tired, grubby look of him to be replaced with cool, chic Steve. He feels a million times better and thanks them all enthusiastically.

They offer him coffee and sit with him as the wait for Billy, chattering about how ‘Matty’ had just appeared at the shop one day as a cleaner, scrubbing floors, washing basins and brushing up the hair. After some time, he and Ron apparently got close – which Steve tries not to bristle at – and he wound up teaching him the ropes. Whatever they were. It soon became apparent that ‘Matty’ had a natural talent and was working all their high-end clients and bringing new ones in each day.

“Everybody loved him, I mean, you would know,” Xander says, touching Steve’s arm, balancing his cup of coffee in his other hand that keeps threatening to spill over with his movements.

“The clients just adored him, always making them laugh and charming them all.”

One of the girls takes a picture off the wall and shows it to Steve. It’s of the staff, standing outside the boutique on a sunny day. They’re all smiling at the camera and right there in the middle, with his arm slung around Ron’s waist, is Billy. His hair is long, longer than Steve’s ever seen it, flowing and shining in the sun right down to his waist. He looks incredible, looking like a prince, grinning at the camera. Steve stares and stares at the photograph, how young he looks, how happy and _free_ he looks. It pulls at his heart and all he wants to do is climb in to the photograph and be there, with this Billy, happy and free, looking like a model, living a happy life.

Billy re-appears, Ron by his side, cleaned up too. His hair has been washed and his curls shine in the bright lights, a few falling into his eyes, the rest of his hair cut short around his head. An earring glints in his left ear, a ring on his middle finger. He looks like the Billy Steve used to know; white shirt tucked in to blue jeans, brown boots and the shirt buttoned up to his navel, showing off his muscles and light dusting of chest hair.

Steve can do nothing more than stare as he comes over, looking at Steve like he’s just seeing him for the first time.

“You clean up pretty good, Princess,” he says tucking an envelope into the back pocket of his jeans.

Steve tries not to blush under the heat of his gaze, lets himself get distracted by the gushing of the girls around him, knowing eyes on him.

 “Thank you,” he says, looking by Billy to Ron who smiles at him.

“Don’t you worry about it, sweetie, any friend of Matty’s is a friend of ours.”

“Well, it was fun catching up, but we really gotta go. Things to see, people to do” Billy says, seemingly completely in this ‘Matty’ identity again, winking at the girls who giggle.

The group all protest but eventually let them go, all waving at the entrance to the boutique as they make their way back to the car.

“Not a word,” Billy says as Steve opens his mouth to tease him.

Billy’s got his overalls and Steve’s old clothes slung over his arm and he hands them to Steve as he pops open the bonnet, checks the engine. Steve chuckles as he folds Billy’s overalls, hanging them over his arm and goes to put them into the trunk when something falling to the ground catches his attention. He shoves the clothes in and bends to retrieve the items.

He thumbs at the keychain with the ‘ _California,_ ’ lettering, worn and the colours faded. He remembers Max giving it to Billy on his eighteenth birthday, grinning and punching his arm affectionately. He sets aside the ID and passport and his heart lurches at the strip of photographs.

He looks at the old, familiar faces, smiling and laughing, arms around each other. He sees two boys completely in love, looking at each other like there is no one else in the world but them. It’s like looking in to another life, the mirth of the day sobering to a heart ache as Steve stares and stares. He hears the bonnet slam back down and Billy appears around the boot, looking at him questioningly. His eyes widen when he looks down and sees what Steve is holding.

“You kept these?”

Billy looks torn, not sure what to say. He reaches out slowly, strokes a finger over the photo with Steve kissing Billy’s cheek, the blond grinning at the camera, arm wrapped around his waist. Blue eyes look to him.

“They made me get rid of anything that I didn’t need. I couldn’t – I didn’t want to just throw them out.”

Steve goes to give them back to Billy and feels something cold against his palm. He looks down as sees the necklace that Billy wore like a promise, nestled in against his skin. Billy stops moving and just stares at it.

He takes the necklace, slings it around his neck and it’s like a puzzle piece clicking into place. Suddenly, it’s his Billy standing there. Older and more scarred, dragged through hell but its _him._

Steve touches his fingers to the dull gold and feels his throat tighten.

“Why didn’t you ever call me?”

“I didn’t want to get you involved. They wouldn’t let me contact you anyway. I tried once, looked up some old news from Hawkins, saw you with your amazing job, doing so well for yourself. Got a guy, got everything you deserved. Why would you want anything to do with me?”

“Billy…”

Billy smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “guess it just wasn’t meant to be. You moved on, so I had to too.”

Steve narrows his eyes at him, “I moved on because you disappeared without a word.”

Billy nods, “I know.”

“Besides, you seemed to be doing alright for yourself. Ron seems like a good guy.”

Billy stares at him in confusion, “Ron?”

Steve laughs, pulls the trunk shut and goes to the driver’s side door, “don’t think I didn’t notice how he was with you.”

Billy rolls his eyes, “that was nothing.”

“Oh really?” Steve teases but he’s already feeling the curls of jealousy blooming in his chest as he watches Billy glance to the Salon and back to Steve.

“Just leave it, Princess.”

He pulls the door open and gets in and Steve follows, turning on the engine but a hand stops him from pulling the door shut after him.

“Put your hands on the dashboard and don’t move.”

Steve freezes, two guys in suits surrounding the car, pulling the doors open and tug Billy out, slamming him up against the side.

“You have the right to remain silent –“

Billy struggles against their hold until hey flash gold badges at him and he sags, blowing out a defeated breath.

“-and you have the right to an Attorney.”

“I _am_ an Attorney, dammit,” Steve says, gripping the steering wheel in hand, going into Lawyer mode, “I demand to know what he is charged with.”

One of the men smirks at him and looks over to Billy, “Rick Delaney, you are charged with armed, aggravated assault on Neil Hargrove.”

Billy groans, thuds his head on the car and sighs.

Steve twists in his seat to look at him, “Billy, tell them.”

Billy looks at him with pleading, blue eyes, “tell them what, Steve?”

“About the witness re-location program!”

The guys laugh, “you’ll have plenty of time to tell us at the station, now put both hands behind your head.”

Billy complies, looks as Steve and looks to the ticking engine. He lurches his body back, firing the back of his head into one of the guy’s faces and turns, using his entire body to throw the other guy into a stall of flowers by the sidewalk. They both go down and Billy turns, throws himself head first into the car, tugs down the hand break and shoves his hand down by Steve’s feet, hitting the gas.

“Drive!"

Steve screams as the car lurches forwards, turning the wheel quickly to drive onto the street and Billy’s still got his hand pressed to the floor of the gas, the car speeding down the streets fast.

“Oh my god! _Oh my god_!”

Steve’s brains stumble to keep up with what is going on, whipping down the street.

“Billy what the hell are you _doing_?”

“Just shut up and drive straight!”

“You need to go back just explain to them about the program and prove you’re innocent!”

“They had phoney badges, Princess, they’re more of my Dad’s guys!”

Steve swerves to avoid an oncoming car, legs flailing and instinctively going to the break and he feels Billy batting his hand at him, upside down in the car, hand still pressed down to the gas.

“Get your foot off the break!” he yells, shoving his hand against Steve’s foot.

“We need to slow down I can’t drive this fast!” Steve yells in sheer panic, turning the wheel fast, swerving here and there to avoid cars, people yelling to him and sirens blaring in the distance.

“We need to get out of here before the real cops show up now get your foot off the goddamn break!” a mouth closes over Steve’s leg through his jeans and teeth sink in to his leg and Steve yelps, kicking his leg and Billy laughs as he swerves hard, cutting on to the freeway.

“Stop it, Billy – I don’t know where the hell I’m going!”

Billy reappears, sits back up beside him and tugs Steve’s body over the console.

“What are you doing?” he yells, gripping the wheel hard against Billy’s hands.

“Let me drive!” he says, climbing in behind Steve into the same seat, hands shoving him over.

“This is a rented car! I could get in trouble if you drive it!”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Stop being such a Princess and _move_!”

He shoves Steve in to the passenger seat and takes control, shifting the gears and slamming the gas, speeding out on to the highway and away from the city.

Steve lands in the passenger seat in a pile of limbs and grips the dashboard in terror as they speed away. Billy turns to look behind him, relieved to see they have somehow managed to get away and lets out a whoop, full of adrenaline, grinning at Steve.

Steve surges forwards, thumps his fists on Billy’s arm, “are you crazy? You could have gotten us both killed!”

Billy just laughs, bringing up his other hand to shield himself from Steve’s hits and shoves him back into the passenger seat.

“What? Come on, that was pretty slick – you have to admit that was cool!”

Steve sags into his seat, feeling a laugh bubble in his chest and he can’t fight the grin, laughs breathlessly as they speed down the road.

“You having fun now?”

“No!” Steve laughs, hands grabbing on to the dashboard of the car, “I’m not having fun at _all_.”

“Yeah, you are, there’s the King Steve I’ve been looking for.”

Steve grins and just watches the road, no idea where they are heading but blindly trusting Billy.

“I was so scared,” he says, thumping Billy one last time and he just laughs.

 

 

 

V


	4. Chapter 4

They drive for what feels like forever. The night comes in fast and Steve eventually settles, tucking himself into his seat and manages to catch up on some much needed sleep.

Billy drives through the night, singing along softly to the radio he turns way down to let Steve rest. When morning comes, he’s exhausted and hungry and pulls over into a diner for some breakfast.

He leans over to wake Steve. He’s huddled against the car door, long ass legs somehow tucked up underneath him. He’s got Billy’s jacket rolled up and used as a pillow and he presses his face into it, nosing at the fabric when Billy shakes him gently, breathing in deep.

Billy stills, watches the way a strand of hair falls out of his perfectly done quiff, brushing against the skin of his brow, making him frown a little in sleep. Billy chuckles, gently brushes it away and traces a finger down his cheek. He used to do this, almost every night. He had spent so much time watching Steve thrash awake out of his dreams, sweating and panting, eyes searching the dark for monsters until those big browns found Billy and instantly calmed.

So, Billy always tried to wake him gently; the soft touch of his fingers on his cheeks, his brow, his lips. He would watch Steve’s face twitch in sleep then those eyes would slip open and blink up at him blearily before smiling. He always woke him to say goodbye when he snuck out in the early morning, before the rest of the town was awake. Steve insisted he say goodbye, no matter how much Billy wanted to just let him rest. He would stretch, pull Billy’s clothed body against him warm and naked and kiss him, hold him close, smiling all the while and making it nearly impossible for Billy to even fathom moving, never mind leaving him.

But, he would run across town, early morning light just breaking over the horizon with his lips tingling from Steve’s kisses, his arms warm from his body and happy even as he climbed in through his bedroom window and into his cold, empty bed.

He presses his finger against his brow, trails a line down his temple and to his cheek, trailing over the seam of his lips and watches Steve shift, moving his head into the touch and against his better judgement, he cups his cheek in his hand.

Eyes open and he’s swimming in warm, sleepy, chocolate brown. Steve’s lips curl at the corners and he presses his face into Billy’s palm, sighing happily and snuggling into his touch. It pulls at Billy’s heart and all he wants to do is be back in that big, comfortable bed, back in Steve’s big, empty house, wrapped around his warm, naked body and stay there for the rest of his days.

“Billy -”

His voice is rough from sleep and he’s still not fully awake. His hands reach out to hold on to the sleeve of Billy’s shirt like a child and tries to pull him closer.

“Kiss me before you go.”

Billy stills, the words he used to say every single time, the way he’s pulling him close, the whole situation a vivid echo from their past.

Steve’s eyes blink and he’s more awake now, looks around and sees where they are, _when_ they are. He shoots up, scrambling to sit in the seat upright and blinks around in confusion. His eyes slide to Billy and his cheeks warm.

“Sorry, forgot where we were for a second.”

Billy _wants_ to forget. He would give anything to take the last three seconds back and follow Steve’s request, kiss him like he used to. His eyes drop to those lips he used to know so well, looking plump and wet and rosy and so inviting.

Steve clears his throat to rid himself of his morning hoarse-ness and scrubs a hand over his face, looking flustered and embarrassed.

Billy takes pity on him, “thought we could use some breakfast and some coffee,” he says, cutting the engine and pulling out the keys.

Steve nods, shaking away the ropes of sleep and climbs out of the car. He follows Billy up the steps to the diner in silence, slides into the booth and doesn’t do much else until the waitress pours them both a coffee and he attacks, chugging it down while Billy stares.

“Ah,” he hisses, smacking his lips together and sticking out his tongue, “that’s hot.”

Billy stares, amused, sipping at his own coffee slowly, “no shit, sherlock.”

Steve glares at him and Billy grins, the awkwardness gone from earlier to be replaced with their usual back and forth.

He orders the breakfast special, the £300 he got from Ron getting put to good use. They already spend £60 of it re-filling the car and another £30 for some cigarettes, burgers, snacks, juice and a pair of sunglasses for the glare of the sun at a 7/11 the night before.

“So, we’re heading to California?” Steve asks, sipping at the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the cheap taste.

He nods. Billy’s got most of his money put away in storage there along with his beloved Camaro and most of his clothes, tapes and books. He’s never had much in the way of personal belongings, that became apparent when he tried to sell things off when Steve got money for his Beamer, back when they were saving to leave Hawkins. What little he does have, the WPP put away in storage for him for emergencies.

This, driving across town, getting hunted by his Dad and having barely any cash to their names definitely counts as an emergency.

Steve orders the pancake special and Billy shakes his head as he watches the guy pour nearly the entire bottle of maple syrup over them and tuck in.

“I’ve always wanted to see it, Cali, I mean,” he says around a mouthful, syrup staining his lips.

“I always planned on taking you,” Billy says as he digs into his eggs, suddenly ravenous, “looks like I finally get the chance.”

Steve chuckles as he swallows, smiling to the waitress as she re-fills his mug.

“How long a drive is it?”

Billy swallows past a mouthful of bacon and washes it down with some more coffee, feeling a bit more alive.

“Around eleven hours. We’ve already done about five of them, once I got on the right road. Should get there around afternoon if the traffic is good and we don’t get side-tracked.”

Steve nods, wiping at the last of his syrup and sighs, sitting back in the booth, rubbing his belly through his shirt.

“Fuck, I needed that,” he sighs, drinks the last of his coffee and watches Billy finish his own plate.

“Why don’t you call Hopper?”

Billy freezes, mug hallway to his mouth and looks at Steve.

“Because,” he says, wiping his hands on a napkin and sitting up, “I’m not dragging anyone else in to this mess.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Hopper is police, he can help you. By the sounds of it, the WPP is corrupt and helping your Dad and you’re going to be running for the rest of your life at this rate. _And_ , because of the stunt you pulled back in Oregon, we’ve probably got the actual police looking for us too. It could help to have a friend on your side.”

“Thought _you_ were on my side,” he snides, temper rising.

Steve looks at him, “of course, I’m on your side. I’m just trying to help, don’t need to be such an asshole about it.”

Billy sighs, pulls out some bills from the envelope and drops them on the table, getting out of the booth, Steve following.

“I’m not getting anyone else in trouble. Hopper’s did enough for us back in the day, plus he’s all the way back in Hawkins, we’re on the other side of the country, what’s he going to be able to do?”

Steve follows him back out to the car quietly, frowning in thought.

“Look, Steve,” he says, pausing at the car, “I know you’re trying to help, and I appreciate it, I do. But this is different. My Dad plays dirty and Hopper could get himself killed. You could get yourself killed, that’s why I’m getting my car and I’m leaving your life and you won’t have to think about me again.”

He tucks the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out his reds, lighting one up “besides, I’ll bet you’re desperate to get rid of me and back to your boyfriend and your nice rich-bitch life.”

“Excuse me?”

He blows out he smoke, levelling Steve with a glare, “what? It’s true, isn’t it?”

Steve looks him up and down, lip curling, “oh, you’re such a goddamn asshole.”

He storms off and Billy follows, taking another draw of his smoke, hot on his heels.

Steve spins around, Billy nearly crashing right into him and he glares into his face, right up in his business, “you know what, Billy? You broke my heart. You left me in the dirt, alone and without a word for fifteen goddamn years. Do you really expect me to jump right back into your arms and be happy you’re alive and running for your life? I didn’t ask for any of this. I had to pick up the pieces after you. I was devastated and never thought I would ever know why you suddenly dumped me and took off.”

He steps closer, face red with anger, “we’ve both got separate lives now. You off with your Ron and whoever the fuck else. Don’t you dare try to make me out to be the bad guy here. I don’t need to be here helping your ass. I don’t need to have you come crashing back into my life just to leave me again. I don’t need any of this, but I’m doing it because I used to love you. Don’t you dare try to pull this shit on me. My heart can’t take this again.”

Silence reigns and Billy curses himself. He’s worked on his anger, he had to. Living a new life, with new people, he couldn’t push everyone away. But sometimes, he snaps, panics and says the wrong thing. He’s tired, he’s sore and he’s completely unsure what the hell he’s going to do about his father and he knows that Steve’s right. He’s being an asshole. Steve doesn’t need to help him, Billy doesn’t deserve it after the mess he got himself in to.

He sighs and closes his eyes, rolls the filter of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and counts to ten. When he opens them, Steve’s calmed down too, still glaring at him, but his face is less red and he’s not standing so close.

“I know,” he says eventually, “I’m sorry.”

He holds out the carton of cigarettes and Steve looks at them for a long time before taking one out, leaning into the flame of the zippo Billy holds out, and blows the smoke out in a sigh. He nods to him, turns to lean against the side of the Beamer and takes another, long draw.

The sun is higher in the sky now, early morning light breaking through the clouds, warm and dry, the way Billy remembers it – unlike Hawkin’s humid heat that hangs in the air. They stand side by side in silence, smoking their cigarettes and the tension flows away with the smoke, whisping and curling in the air until it’s gone completely.

Billy crushes the butt beneath his book and runs a hand through his hair, studying the ground.

“For the record,” he says, “I’ve never been with anyone after you.”

He feels Steve look at him but keeps his eyes fixed on the ground, scuffing the sole of his boot through the gravel of the parking lot.

“What?”

He shrugs, “never wanted anyone else. Not Ron, not anyone I met while we were apart.”

Steve stays silent and Billy gets itchy with it, want to break the tension and move on, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable after his admission. He kicks off the side of the car and goes around to the passenger side, tossing Steve the keys who catches them easily.

“I need a rest, you drive for a bit, it’s just a straight road for another couple of hours.”

Steve nods, contemplative and silent as he gets into the car. Billy climbs into the back seats and shifts around, downs his aspirin and gets comfortable, easing some pressure off his ass as he leans on his side across the back seats.

They drive along in silence and Billy tosses and turns, struggling to find sleep. It’s never good to leave an argument half done, his mother had always told him, it eats away at your mind and you won’t find any rest.

Steve helps him out of his hell, shifts a little and glances at him in the back, “shame, really,” he says, “guess you’re never going to teach me how to surf.”

Billy smiles, remembers his endless promises of taking Steve to see the ocean, “you’d be terrible at it anyway.”

Steve just chuckles and watches the road. Billy rolls over and closes his eyes, finding sleep eventually to Steve’s soft singing.

 

 

V

 

 

 

 

They get caught in traffic and road works when they near California.

The closer they get, the longer they are standing still, the more excited Billy gets. He woke after an hour or so, climbed back into the passenger seat and groaned, rolling his neck. Their earlier argument still hung in the air, spoken and unspoken words making the car silent, the conversation half hearted and stiff.

But, when they near the sunshine state, his head moves as he watches trees and fields whip by until he happily tells Steve he can see the ocean on the horizon and the city peeking up in the distance. He flashes Steve a grin when they pass the ‘ _Welcome To California_ ,’ road sign, looking like a child at Christmas.

It’s cute, really.

He goes on and on about the place, tells Steve about the beaches and the girls and the boys and the surfing. It’s nothing Steve hasn’t heard before, but it makes him smile to listen again to Billy’s surfing stories and his mother’s little house with the rose garden and the pier he had his first kiss with a boy beneath when he was thirteen years old.

Eleven hours into the drive and Steve feels like he’s going to keel over. It’s later than they had planned when they reach the centre and the storage facility that’s got Billy’s things is most likely long since closed for the night.

“I need food. I need a bed. I need a massage,” Steve complains, rolling his stiff neck and shoulders.

 “I need a beer,” Billy says, grimacing at his ass as he shifts in his seat.

They find a cheap motel, tucked away just outside the city and grab the last room they have. It’s is small and boasts nothing more that a lumpy looking double bed, a TV that doesn’t work, a small bathroom and a door with a broken lock.

Billy doesn’t seem at all affected by the place as he throws himself onto the bed and groans Steve skirts around, grimaces at the yellow lights and the ugly wallpaper. The bathroom is clean, but the facilities are old, the shower looks like it doesn’t know about warm water and he turns the faucet gingerly, testing the water and genuinely surprised to find it warm.

There are small, complimentary bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion and baby oil in one of the cupboards and Steve lines them up on the counter by the shower curtain. Billy shouts out to him that he’s running to grab some food and Steve hears the door shut behind him, locks the bathroom door since the main one doesn’t work and there is nothing of value on them even if someone decides to break in.

He lets out an appreciative groan when he steps under the spray of water. Its not as warm as he would like and the pipes keep rattling, but it’s the first shower he’s had in days and it feels like heaven to him.

He rubs the shampoo into his hair, revelling in the nice, clean, soapy smell of it and feels the dirt and grime and sweat wash away with all his tension as he rubs as his shoulders and arms.

He keeps thinking about what Billy said to him during their fight in the diner’s parking lot that morning. How he had snapped at him. It isn’t anything new. Billy used to snap at him occasionally, when he was tired or hungry or pissed off at his father. Steve had gotten a way with it after a time, learned how to calm him down and make him see reason. After a while, Billy snapped less, left his anger at the door when he was with Steve and it had always been good between them. They had learned each other, but all of that had suddenly disappeared with the stress of the situation they had found themselves in.

Steve was party to blame. He had let the jealousy get to him, couldn’t shake off the way he had watched Ron touch Billy like he was his, looping his arm around his waist, going off in private with him and fixing him up and coming out and looking at him in that longing way he had. It had riled Steve up, more than he had expected.

He told Billy that he was doing all this because he used to love him. He had been lying through his teeth.

He knows fine well that he has never gotten over the guy. How could he? What they had, it was real, realer than anything Steve has ever felt since and it’s hard to try and stamp those feelings down after he had disappeared on him. Now, being with him again, being so close and with so many echoes from their past life together fitting in to their day to day, those feelings have come crashing back into his heart and he doesn’t know what to do with it all.

He misses Billy like hell. Finds himself constantly watching him, the way he bites his lip while he drives. The way he grins at Steve and laughs as they banter. The way he sings along to the music, softly so Steve can sleep. The way he had woken him soft and just the way he used to do so many times back in Hawkins. Steve wants nothing more than to just erase everything that had changed between them. He wants to forget his boyfriend, forget Billy’s dad, just run away with him, like they had planned back in the beginning of it all.

He scrubs at his skin, rinses the soap out of his hair and turns off the water. He steps out onto the tiny bathmat and scrubs the rough towel over his skin until he’s dry and red. He slings it around his waist, gathers his clothes that are dirty and sweaty and dumps them into the sink. He pours some water over them, a little of the body wash from the little bottle and scrubs at them, squeezing the grime from them and wringing them out.

He grabs the bottles of baby oil and lotion and goes back into the bedroom and finds Billy sitting at the small table on wobbly looking chairs, pulling out food from a bag and Steve’s stomach growls loudly.

Billy chuckles as Steve drapes his clothes over the heater and the back of chairs to dry. He tightens the towel around his waist, feeling Billy’s heavy gaze on him. He does his best to ignore it, listening him chew on his food as Steve rubs some of the lotion on to his face, dry and feeling tight from the cheap soap he used. He sets them on the bedside table and fiddles with the lamp until it turns on, bathing the room in a warm, orange glow.

“I got us some burgers and fries from the diner across the road and grabbed us beers, figured we’d be needing them.”

Steve sighs happily, gives Billy an appreciative smile and sits with him at the table. He devours the food, tasting greasy and cheap but to him, Steve could be dining at his favourite five-star restaurant and never know any different. He sips at his beer, nice and cool and tasting like heaven while Billy goes to take his own shower.

He props a chair up against the door, a half-hearted attempt to thwart any possible burglars taking advantage of the busted lock. Billy laughs at it when he comes back out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his waist, rubbing at his curls with another one.

“That’s not going to do much to save you, Princess,” he says with a grin as Steve watches the chair wobble and sit on uneven legs.

“It gives me some peace of mind knowing its there,” Steve sulks, turning to Billy and eyes getting caught on the way a drop of water slides out of his hair, down the valley of his chest, his navel and licks it’s way down to disappear in the waist of the towel. His eyes rise back up to Billy’s face and he’s watching him, eyes dark, small smile on his lips.

Steve tears his gaze away, sits down on one side of the bed, furthest away from the door and rubs some of the lotion on his neck, trying to cool his suddenly heated skin. He wishes there was a fan in here somewhere, the room suddenly feeling too small and stuffy.

Billy washes his clothes too, hangs them on the backs of some chair and on the rack by the window. Steve curses himself when he realises he’s stupidly forgotten about the one bed and the lack of sleeping clothes. His towel will have to do.

Billy kills the main light, the room light just by the soft glow of the lamp by his side of the bed. Steve tucks himself into the covers hurriedly, feeling his cheeks heat and turns his head away from Billy as he fusses with his towel, feeling it dampen the mattress beneath him and tangle around his thighs.

Billy comes to the other side of the bed and goes to pull the sheets down and Steve starts.

“Stay above the covers.”

Billy looks at him, “why?”

“My towel is wet, I don’t want to sleep in it.”

“So?”

Steve blushes, “so? I’ll be naked.”

“For fuck sake, Princess, its nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Steve tugs on the sheets as Billy fights him to pull them down, “yeah, well, things are different now.”

Billy looks at him for a time, contemplative and his eyes dart down to where Steve’s chest disappears under the cover and sighs, “fine.”

“Thank you.”

He tugs his towel off from beneath the sheets and throws it to the floor, turning his head when Billy just whips his off too and throws it away. He pulls the thin top sheet down and settles his body on that, resting on the comforter Steve is buried beneath and pulls the thin material over his body. He shuts off the lamp and the room is bathed in low light, the streetlamps outside filtering in through the blinds.

They lie in silence. Steve shifts about a little, trying to get comfortable. He can hear Billy breathing. He can feel the weight of his body lying on the comforter. He can feel his body heat ghosting over the small gap between them, teasing at Steve’s side. He is hyper aware of the fact that they have automatically chosen their sides of the bed, the same sides they used to claim when they shared one every night. It’s way too familiar, way too real. He can so easily just pretend it’s back in his childhood room, back when they were so in love and would never dream of having so much mattress space between them.

He’s never going to find any sleep at this rate, too strung up and hyper aware of every little shift Billy makes.

“Why don’t you tell me about him?”

Billy’s voice is low in the dark, rumbling and resonating through Steve’s body.

“About who?”

Billy turns his head to look at him, “what do you mean who? This boyfriend of yours, who else?”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, “no.”

“Why not?” Billy asks, leaning up on his elbow to look down at Steve, necklace slinking across his chest.

“Because, you’ll just belittle him.”

“Fancy word.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

Steve laughs as Billy grins at their childish bickering.

“Go to sleep.”

Billy shuffles closer, resting his head in his hand and looking at Steve with a sly smile, “no, I want you to tell me about him.”

“Why do you want to know so much?”

He shrugs, “I’m curious.”

“About what?”

Steve can see the glint in his eyes even in the dark, can see the flash of his pearly whites as he grins and he knows he’s biting his lip like he always does when he teases Steve.

“What’s he like in bed?”

Steve gapes at him, “I’m not telling you that!”

“Oh, come on.”

Steve grins despite himself, amused by Billy’s playfulness and rolls on to his side, back to him, “no. I’m not talking about sex with you.”

“You never minded before.”

The low, gravelly tone of his voice send shivers cascading all over Steve’s body and he fights the shiver.

“That was before.”

Billy is silent after that. Steve lies, staring at the wall, waiting to hear Billy move; lie back down and leave it at that and go to sleep. Instead, he stays where he is and Steve wants to shake his head because he knows that Billy is biting his teeth, fighting with himself to tease Steve some more because it’s always been Billy’s favourite thing to do.

The mattress moves as Billy shuffles closer, “come on, what’s his name, at least? I’ll be nice, I promise. “

Steve chuckles, rolls over and looks up at Billy, stomach lurching with how close he’s moved to him. Billy tilts his head, looks down at him with a smile, eyes dark.

“You will?” Steve asks, smirking up at Billy who’s grin widens.

Billy nods and Steve laughs, shuffles about to lie on his side facing Billy and sighs, “his name is Peter.”

“Peter? What, is he the preacher’s son?”

Steve scoffs, “see? This is why I wasn’t going to tell you; you can’t be serious about anything.”

He rolls back over onto his side and Billy laughs, “Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I promise.”

Steve just shakes his head, laughing to himself and nuzzles into the pillow, eyes on the faded wallpaper. He hears Billy move to rest his head on his own pillow.

A car drives past on the road outside, a streetlamp buzzes. Steve stares at the wallpaper that looks like it’s about to crumble off and bites his lip.

“Is that true?”

Billy shifts, “is what true?”

“About you never being with anyone after me.”

He can _feel_ Billy grinning in the dark.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

Steve feels his nerves tingling, feels coiled tight like a spring. He can feel Billy so close to his back. He can feel the tension buzz in the air and the curve of his words as he smiles

“I don’t.”

“Fine, then shut up.”

Steve rolls over glaring up at that smirking face, “shut up?” “Yeah I’ll shut up, asshole.”

He rolls back over, fighting the grin on his face.

“Don’t call me an asshole.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want, asshole.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah”

Hands tug him back around to lie on his back and Billy’s mouth presses hot and heavy to his.

Steve’s body roars in satisfaction, his hands instantly come to tangle in golden curls. Billy kisses him like he’s devouring him; mouth warm, lips soft, moaning into his mouth when Steve’s tongue licks to join his. He tugs the covers down and slides in next to Steve, that lovely, warm, solid body pressing against his own. Steve sighs into his kiss, revels in the feeling of his skin against his own, soft and feeling impossibly good and familiar, after so, so long.

Billy pulls away to look at him, gaze heavy on his, breathing hand and Steve feels like he’s going to burst with how much he’s feeling, how much he sees reflected in those smouldering, deep blue eyes. Billy looks at him like he’s the whole world and it had his heart racing, has him tugging his mouth back to his.

His kisses are the same. Billy always kisses him like there is nothing else he would rather be doing in the entire world. His hands run down his waist, tuck under his body and pull him off the mattress to press every inch against him and they both moan when they feel each other hard and aching, brushing together.  

His mouth moves down his neck, kissing at the sensitive parts he remembers, licking and sucking at the column of his throat, teeth teasing at there his pulse hammers beneath and Steve sighs and tilts his head back for more, hands everywhere on Billy’s skin.

His hips buck against his, grinding into the heat of him, the slide of his cock heavy and leaking against his hip. He shudders as Billy ducks his head, sucks a nipple into his mouth, tonguing at the stiffened peak and teases it with his teeth. He kisses his way over to the other one, repeats his ministration, hips moving, hands holding him so close as if he’s afraid to ever let go.

Steve digs his nails into his back and feels him shudder as he roves a hand down to his ass, fills his palm with the plump flesh and squeezes, pulling his hips closer as they grind and he kisses him again. He breathes a sigh against his mouth.

“God, I missed you, Stevie”

His voice sounds wrecked already and it has Steve’s heart thundering. Billy’s lips move down his stomach, licking and biting and kissing every inch of him he can get to, hands roving up and down his sides and he bites at the corner of his groin, sucks heard and Steve throws his head back into the mattress as he feels the mark he leaves there blossoming in his skin.

A hand wraps around him, familiar and warm, calloused palm rubbing up and down velvety skin and squeezes, thumbing at his head, rubbing his wetness into sensitive skin and Steve doesn’t give a shit who hears him moaning.

He looks down his body to see Billy shrug the covers to the floor, blue eyes hooded and heavy as he looks up at him, licking his way around Steve’s hips, hands on his thighs, squeezing at his flesh and blonde curls move as he ducks his head and takes him into his mouth.

Steve shudders, blows out a breath as that mouth so warm and tight sucks him in, tongue presses into the base of him, so good and hot and he feels like he’s going to pass out. Billy hums around him, vibration resonating through his soul as he takes him deeper. He bobs his head, hands squeezing at his thighs and Steve bucks and moans when he feels his head press against the back of Billy’s throat.

“Billy – God _, Billy_.”

Billy sucks him harder, faster, Steve feels like every cell in his body is on fire as he tangles his fingers into those curls and tugs, feels the moan Billy gives resonate through him. He ducks his head, watching his cock disappear in and out of that mouth, lips pulled tight around him, tongue licking at him again and again, cheeks hollowed and eyes burning on Steve.

“B-Billy, I’m going – I’m going to come.”

Billy doesn’t relent. He’s getting him there so fast. He knows Steve, knows his body like his favourite books. More than that, it’s _Billy_. The Billy that’s drives him mad and he loves so desperately and hopelessly and everything with him is like fire, makes Steve feel so alive, from his fast driving to his kisses to the way he works Steve’s body like a charm.

His hips buck wildly and Billy’s hands come to hold him down, sucking him hard, his mouth hot and wet and tight and Steve comes with a shudder, a loud moan, throwing his head back into the sheets as Billy sucks him through it, milking everything he’s got from him.

He swallows and released him, Steve lying in a twitching, breathless mess as Billy climbs back up his body, licks at his lips and leans down to kiss Steve fiercely, tasting himself on his tongue.

His hips grind into his thigh, his own cock hard and leaking and insistent against him and Steve tugs at his shoulders, wanting to feel his body on him again, sighs when his chest hair rubs soft against his sternum.

“Oil, there’s oil on the table,” he gasps out against Billy’s lips, hand flailing blindly at the bedside table.

Billy chuckles, kisses him again and leans over to retrieve the small bottle, eyes glinting at he looks down at Steve, “come prepared, did you?”

Steve swats at him, “shut up, it was for my skin.”

Billy clicks his tongue against his teeth, grinning, “oh sure, Princess.”

He drags a hand through Steve’s hair and smiles softly, eyes roaming over his face. His expression is so soft and full of so much love it makes Steve glow, makes him run a hand down his side and lean up to hiss him again.

This kiss is softer, intimate. Billy sips at his lips like he’s trying to remember every detail about them. This tongue slides across the seam of them and Steve open his mouth to him, feeling heat spike in his guy all over and his cock twitch and fill between his legs and Billy sucks on his tongue and drags his teeth across his bottom lip.

Billy clicks open the bottle and pushes Steve’s legs up, kissing up and down his thighs and presses a lubed finger against his hole. He rubs at the puckered flesh, pressing open mouths kisses against the sensitive skin around it and then tilts his head to lick there too.

Steve shudders, fists his hands into the mattress and Billy holds his legs apart, head canting back as he mouths hungrily at Steve, moaning against him, dipping his tongue in until his ring is tight around it.

“God, Billy – more, please.”

Billy chuckles as he pulls away, “always loved you begging,” he rasps and presses a finger into him.

Steve is a mess, breathing hard and hooks his hands into the backs of his knees to give himself something to hold on to, giving Billy more room as he curls another finger into him, slow and steady as he seeks out his prostate.

Steve sees stars when he finds it, feels Billy’s fingers press so deep and good into him. He adds another finger when Steve gets restless and impatient, moaning and begging Billy to give him more and more.

When he’s satisfied, he pulls them out and surges back up to kiss Steve again, like he can’t go more than a few minutes without doing so. Steve’s legs sling around his waist and he feels Billy pressing against him, leaking and hot and so hard he feels like he’s going to burst.

“I don’t have a condom,” Billy says into his mouth and Steve shakes his head wildly.

“Don’t care. Don’t want it. Want you. Just you, Need to feel you Billy, please.”

Billy bites at his lip, groans at his words and drizzles the oil onto himself, pumps his hand to relieve some of the building pressure and stares at Steve like he’s a meal.

He shifts, presses against him and Steve sighs when he slides in easily, feeling stretched around him, the familiar size and weight of him as he bottoms out, hips flush with Steve’s ass.

“Fuck – fuck, Stevie, you feel so good,” he moans, dipping his head to press his brow against Steve’s, panting into each other’s space.

Steve trembles, hands clinging on to Billy for dear life as he moves his hips in long, steady pulls. It feels so good, so goddamn good and right for Billy to be inside him again, like an itch he’s been trying to scratch for so long. Billy’s arms wrap around him, body pressing him into the mattress, mouth kissing every inch of him he can reach and his hips move faster, fucking him deeper.

He moans as he feels Billy hit that spot inside him again. Drags his hand through the sweat on his chest, fingers catching on his necklace. Steve feels the mattress stick to his skin, the rub of his legs on Billy’s back, the taste of him in his mouth. Billy looks into his eyes all the while, eyes open and conveying years of longing, of love that never faded and has now ignited into a roaring fire that feels like its burning right into Steve’s blood.

His hips buck into him, his cock stretching him and fucking him so deep and good it has him trembling and seeing stars. He’s vaguely aware of the bang of the headboard against the wall, the noise of cars passing on the street, the hum of that streetlamp, but he doesn’t care. Nothing else exists in his world but Billy.

The blond takes him in hand, pumps him with his thrusts and Steve moans, throw his head back and comes with a shudder, comes with Billy’s name on his lips, comes telling him how much he loves him.

Billy shudders as he watches Steve paint his chest white and his hips stutter into him, fuck deeper than ever before and he plasters his body to him kisses his mouth and comes, filling him up, twitching and emptying inside him.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve – I love you. I love you baby, I love you.”

Steve holds him, breathing hard, feeling his body sag heavy and sweaty on him. His face buries into his neck, kisses his throat and breathes him in.  

They lie, tangled together, exhausted and stated. Billy’s hands drag up and down the bare skin of his side until they still, soft snores filling the air, the same soft snores he used to listen to every night, finding them so sweet. He drifts into sleep, feeling safe and content and better than he has in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to all the Peters out there


	5. Chapter 5

When they wake, the morning light is coming into the room, bathing the place that lovely, warm morning glow.

Billy can hear the airplanes flying overhead, the call of birds, the passing of cars outside the window. He can see the sunlight filtering through the blinds and can smell the heat of the Cali weather he’s missed so much. He loved mornings here, loved waking up to the sound of the ocean and the sun beaming through his blinds. He loved getting up, soft skinned from sleep and tugging on his swim shorts, not caring about his hair, knowing he would get it wet with the ocean in a matter of minutes. He loved peeling down the stairs to find his mother smiling and singing in the kitchen as she cooked. He would grab his surfboard from the garden and run down the dunes to the sea, feeling the early morning sun on his skin, the rest of the world just waking up and coming to. He loved having the beach to himself to step into the water, cold before the heat of the sun gets to it and surf the whole day away among the rolling waves and the sparkling ocean blue.

His mother would come find him around mid-day, standing on the golden grains with her blonde curls swaying in the wind, her summer dresses dipping into the water as she called out his name, waving to him from the shore as he surfed. She would make him lunch, sit with him at the table and listen to him go on and on about the surf, the waves, his board, anything. She would just sit there, wrap her hands around her mug of tea and smile, sipping at it and listen to every word he said like it was the most interesting thing she could hear. He always loved her for it.

He _misses_ her, misses her presence in his life; the reassurance of her there to look after him, to wrap him up in her arms like she used to do and make him feel safe. He thumbs at the necklace on his chest, rubs his fingers over the dull gold like he’s done a million times, so much that the carving of St. Flora has begun to fade.

He wishes Steve could have known her. He would have loved her, and she would have adored him. He used to imagine bringing him home to meet her; driving to her house in the sun, sitting in her rose garden with her sharing some of her home-made lemonade. No Neil, no running for his life, no beatings from his father that ruined everything and started when he was still so young.

Billy shifts, looks down at Steve where he is draped across his chest, breathing slowly against his skin in sleep. His hands hold on to him, like even in sleep he’s worried Billy will disappear. Billy ducks his head to watch his face, calm and soft in his dreams, pretty mouth parted, pretty cheeks looking so soft, pretty hair falling into his face, brushing against Billy’s skin. Pretty, pretty boy.

It hurts Billy’s heart that Steve should have met his father and not his mother. How different his life would have been if his mother had been the one to live and his father die instead. He would never have known any pain or suffering. He would never have to experience being beaten to his knees on a daily basis. He would never know this anger that surges through him at all times, like it’s one with his blood. But, then, he would never have moved to Hawkins, and he would never have known Steve.

It wasn’t for lack of trust that he concealed his father’s treatment of him from the boy. Billy trusted Steve with his life, current situation as proof of that. He just didn’t want Steve to see him like that. He hated how his father had made him feel, hated every moment the man managed to tear him down into a sad, crying mess, licking his wounds and crawling into his bed. He felt ashamed, pathetic as he masked limps, got into stupid fights at parties that gave him enough new bruises to cover up the old ones.

He figured he could go his whole life without Steve ever knowing the truth. Now, things are different. Last night changed everything.

Billy knows he can’t walk away from Steve again. He would hate himself if he tried.

After fifteen years of thinking of nothing but the boy, last night he had been in heaven. Every touch, every kiss, feeling him so one with him again, it had been just as good as the first time and the hundreds of times after, all combined into one amazing night.

He wants to fight this. Somehow. He’s done with running. He’s done with his father messing everything up for him, controlling his life and ensuring that anything that could possibly make him happy is torn from him. He’s so tired with making himself live without Steve.

He shifts in his sleep and Billy’s attention is drawn back to him. This is the first time Billy has ever been able to be in bed all night long with Steve and see him wake up naturally in the morning. No Father to run back to, no town to run across, no reason at all to leave.

Steve stretches, making these cute little noises as he does, rubbing his cheek into Billy’s chest hair and he chuckles, strokes his fingers across the skin of his back and Steve tilts his head up to look at him.

He’s fucking gorgeous. All soft, sleepy eyes, skin glowing in the morning light, cheeks tinged a lovely pink and his hair sticking up everywhere, making him look like a cockatoo.

“Mornin’” he rasps, voice heavy with sleep and man, does Billy want to hear that all the time.

He tilts his head and presses a kiss to Billy’s lips, fingers carding through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He’s got a line on his cheek where the chain of his necklace imbedded into his skin but he just rubs at it and smiles.

“Time is it?”

“Just after eight, thought I’d let you sleep.”

Steve nods and yawns, rubbing at his eyes and Billy just lies there, drinking all of him in.

“I had that dream again.” Steve says, folding himself back into Billy’s arms and nuzzling into his neck, “remember that dream I used to have after we had sex?”

“The one with me as a girl?”

Steve laughs, his body shaking against Billy’s with it, “no, the one with the little house on the beach, it was just us and the sea.”

Billy smiles, traces little circles into Steve’s skin, “yeah, I remember. It’s a nice dream.”

“Can’t we do that? Can’t we find a way?”

“I’ve spent fifteen years trying to find a way. If I ever found it, I would have come and got you, snatched you right up and stole you away.”

Steve smiles, “would you, really?”

Billy nods, kissing his hair and holding him close.

They lie together for a while, Billy loathe to get up, never wanting to step out of Steve’s embrace again. Steve hums to himself contently, lying in the cradle of Billy’s chest, playing with his hands. He used to do that all the time. He would lie against Billy, tug his hands into his lap and trace his fingers across the skin, press into the veins, hold them palm to palm against his own and look at the difference in size. Billy watches him as he does it, watches him tilt their hands here and therebefore lacing their fingers together and looking at how they entwine.

“My Dad used to beat me.”

He stills, remains looking at their hands but doesn’t move other than that. Billy takes that as invitation and he’s grateful that Steve doesn’t turn his yes to his.

“It started when I was about four. He never wanted kids, my Mom got pregnant with me by accident before they were married.  I think I’m the only reason they ever did get married. He started resenting me for the money it took to raise me, the time it took to look after me, how much my Mother loved me.”

Steve squeezes his fingers with his but still remains silent.

“She died when I was eight. Cancer. He hates that too. The medical bills, the mess he would have to clean up. She was his glorified maid; there to cook, clean, look after me and bring him a beer from the fridge. The sicker she got, the more he had to look out for me. When she died, I never saw him cry. Not even once.”

Steve presses a kiss to his hand, leans back against him more, thumb tracing almost erratically across his skin.

“He would beat me for anything. If a chore hadn’t been done right. If I spent too long surfing. If I went out with my friends for longer than he liked. He used a belt most of the time. Hurt like hell but didn’t leave any scars and could stay hidden under my clothes. When Max and Susan came along, he started using fists.”

Steve shudders against him and turns, buries his face into Billy’s neck and wraps his arms around him. He kisses his skin and still, letting him speak.

“He never loved my Mom, they were too young and she had her head too full of romance novels to realise who he was until it was too late. I don’t think he loved Susan either, just liked the convenience of a woman at home. He treated her better than my Mom though; he never hurt her.”

Billy blinks away at the tears that prick behind his eyes, runs his hands over that pretty, soft skin and keeps his gaze fixed on part of the wall across the room.

“Susan never said anything while he beat me. She always turned her head away and told Max that it was discipline, that I was a boy that needed to learn to be a man. Just like my Father told her. He made me run after Max day in and day out, kept her out of his way and any trouble she caused, I would take the punishment for it. I got good at hiding the bruises and cuts. I got good at dodging his moods and saying what he wanted to hear. But sometimes, he just wanted a punchbag to blow off some steam, didn’t matter what I said or did about it.”

“I wanted the money because I didn’t ever see a way of escaping him. Graduation meant nothing while Max was still there, he’d never touch her, but he’d never let me leave when she still needed a baby-sitter. Then there was you, making me feel like I mattered and that there was someone out there that gave a damn what happened to me. I couldn’t believe it and at first it scared the shit out of me. But you always knew how to bring me round and I realised that I had a reason to get away from him. I wanted to give you a good life and I wanted to go as far away from Neil as possible and never have to look back. Then, of course, he managed to find a way to fuck it all up for me.”

Steve raises his head, looks at Billy with those pretty brown eyes sparkling with tears and kisses him softly.

“You should have told me,” he says against his lips, voice catching.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” Billy says and Steve nods because he gets it, he gets everything about Billy.

“I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. Max never said anything about it. I didn’t know how bad.”

Billy just smiles, traces the back of his fingers across Steve’s cheek, catching a tear, “it’s done with now. Running away, living as someone else, he hasn’t touched me in fifteen years.”

“But he could still find you. What if he does? What if he kills you?”

Tears fall anew and Billy pulls Steve close, kisses his head and the brunet blows out a sigh against his skin.

“It will work out. Any time he’s ever got close, I’ve been moved before he can even scratch his ass. A new place, a new name, and he won’t have a clue.“

“You can’t live your life like that, you can’t run forever.”

Billy stiffens. He knows that. But he can’t see a way out of it.

He can’t see Steve wanting that life. Running, always looking over their shoulders, fearing for their lives. He doesn’t _want_ Steve to live like that. He would give anything to keep him, but he knows deep down that’s not fair. He doesn’t want that for Steve.

Steve deserves the high life he’s found. The safe, loving boyfriend that is secure and doesn’t have guns chasing him. He deserves everything Billy can’t give him.

“We’ve got to get going,” he says eventually, kissing Steve’s hair and untangling himself reluctantly from his embrace.

Steve sighs but gets up. They shake out their clothes, dry but wrinkled at the corners. Steve dresses in silence, eyes seemingly far away and Billy feels that familiar tug of guilt in his gut. He stops at the mirror and huffs, fussing with his hair in the mirror and looking heartbroken when it flops into his eyes. He goes to the bathroom and rinses his hands in some water and resorts to slicking it back, grimacing at how flat it is and it makes Billy chuckle from the main room.

Steve pulls the wobbly chair away from the door and rolls his eyes at Billy’s smirk when it wobbles and falls on to its side pathetically. The sun is blinding when they step outside and Billy revels in it, closes his eyes and tilts his head back, soaking in the lovely, dry heat.

“Hawkins has got nothing on this place,” he says and Steve swats at him, ever the small-town boy.

Steve gets behind the wheel and pulls out a smoke, taking a long drag and rubs his hand over his face. Billy lights his own and shifts in his seat. The wound is healed well by now, doesn’t cause him so much pain as it did. Steve’s been the prime mother hen, treating and checking it when he can, bandaging him up well and making him take his painkillers. It’s sweet and Billy wasted no time in teasing him every single time he fusses.

They stop at a gas station along the way and Billy thumbs out the last of his cash. He’s got some put away in the storage, he can’t remember how much but it will be enough to get him going for a while longer. The storage has his little book with the contacts in it, the number of the guy that set him up with the agency, the nice police officer that had scraped him off the floor after his father had beat him for daring to testify. The nice guy that had put him under arrest in the first place. If anyone is trustworthy, its him, he can hopefully get him a place to go, an identity to take and this mess can be behind him for another fifteen years.

 

 

 

V

 

 

 

“I’m going to find a phone booth, I need to call Peter. Should let him know I’m okay – or just alive. He’s probably worried sick.”

Steve says the lie like he’s chewing on cardboard, mouth feeling thick as he watches Billy push the pump into the car.

Billy nods to him, eyes looking sad, but Steve can’t deal with that right now.

He jogs across the street to the booth and shoves his quarters in, eyes flicking to Billy very so often as he crowds himself into the small space. He punches in the number he’s remembered over the years. He waits, holding his breath while he hears the ring, on the third, it answers.

“Hopper here, this better be good.”

Steve feels his stomach lurch at the sound of his voice. He’s doing this. He’s really doing this.

“Hey, it’s Steve.”

“Steve? You okay?”

Steve keeps his eyes on Billy, watching the numbers dial up on the pump’s screen, golden hair shining in the sun.

“No, I’m – Billy’s in trouble.”

“Billy? Hargrove?”

“Yeah, I found him he’s – he’s been in witness protection. His Dad got him in to some drug cartel, he testified against him and he went to jail but he’s out now and hunting him. Hunting us.”

“Wait, Steve, slow down.”

“I don’t know what to do. We’ve got his Dad’s guys chasing us and the police too – we think the Program is helping him. We don’t know who to turn to.”

“Where are you?”

“California. We’re getting the Camaro and he’s thinking of going north to meet some guy. What should I do?”

“Just stay where you guys are. Is there a number I can reach you on?”

Billy puts the pump back in the holder and turns to the assistant, passing him money and looks across the street to Steve.

“Shit, Hop I gotta go.”

“Steve, I need a way to call you.”

Billy looks across the street, looking like he’s about to cross.

“We don’t have anything on us. We’re going to a storage facility he has his Camaro and stuff at. Public Storage in Sand City.”

“Okay. Try to stay there if you can. I’ll work something out.”

“Hop, I don’t know what to do. He thinks he can run again, his Dad’s got eyes everywhere, he keeps finding us.”

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Billy yells across the street, “times ticking, we’ve got to move.”

“Just stay there as long as you can, I’ll work something out. Just stay there.”

“Oh God, okay, I’ll try.”

“Steve -”

Billy starts jogging across the road towards him.

“Fuck, Hop I need to go, I’m sorry I have to go.”

He throws the phone back into the holder and plasters a smile across his face when Billy nears him.

“Hey, sorry, Peter was worried, all fine now.”

Something shifts across Billy’s gaze when he nears and Steve feels his heart in his throat.

“Look, Steve.”

He feels his knees weaken and panic seizes him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I can – wait, what?”

Billy shifts about, looks down the street and shoves his hands into his jeans.

“I know last night changed things. But I – we – fuck.”

Steve stares at him.

“You should go back to him. He obviously loves you, and I – I’m a lose canon. I shouldn’t have – I don’t expect you to come with me. I’m sorry I’ve dragged you so far into this, and I’m sorry we’re out here. We can get the Camaro and you can take the Beamer and turn around and leave. I’ll understand.”

He grits his teeth and drags a hand through his hair and shifts from foot to foot. Steve watches him squirm.

“Peter and I aren’t together anymore.”

Billy stares at him.

“What?”

“We’re on a break,” Steve admits, clenching his hands into fists, “a few weeks ago he proposed and I said no. I just, I couldn’t.”

Billy’s just staring at him, blue eyes wide and watching every move Steve makes.

“I still love you, okay? I never stopped. I couldn’t be with anyone else. I thought I could make it work with him, but when he asked I just couldn’t think about anything else but you.”

Billy’s just staring at him. Steve can hear his heart beating in his ears, feels nerves jittering all over his body. Billy moves, hands reaching out and he tugs Steve to him, wraps his arms around him and holds him close. His lips brush against his ear, all they can really do so much in public.

“I love you, always have,” he whispers, making Steve shiver and clutch on to his shirt.

He pulls away, smelling of the cheap soap from the motel and his cigarettes and looks at Steve with heavy eyes, “but I’m not setting you up in a life like this.”

“Then we will fight it, we’ll find a way.”

Billy shakes his head and smiles sadly, “wishful thinking, Princess.”

He tugs Steve back to the car silently, climbs in and turns the engine over. Steve’s leg bounces as they drive, the sun high in the sky and he feels his heart in his throat.

Hop will find a way. He has to.

 

 

 

V

 

 

 

It’s nearing sunset when they get to the storage facility. Steve had stalled Billy all day, telling him he wanted to go to the beach, show him the surf and talk things out between them. He had implored him once more to contact Hopper, the lie clawing its way up his throat hour by hour. Billy kept refusing, telling Steve until he was blue in the face that there was nothing Hooper could do and that they had to get moving.

He’s still adamant that despite last night and despite Steve’s confession this morning that it would be best for him to leave. It made the nerves in his arms flutter as they drove in silence. Billy always tried to do what was best for Steve. He hated it. Hated that the only good thing he could see from this was for Steve to forget all about him, go back to his life and move on from him. How could he? Not after everything they had been through, not now that he knows that Billy has been his all along. He’s so close to everything he wants and he feels like he’s back to that day in Hawkins, standing by the road while Max tells him Billy had disappeared. He can feel his heart lurching that it all could happen all over again. He wants to tell Billy he is stupid for thinking they can both just walk away from this.

But, he’s right. This is no way to live. If he stays with Billy they will be running from place to place, even if he can get to this guy that set him up in the beginning with a new name and location, it will just be a matter of time before they are found out by his Father or the cops. And what about Steve’s job? He’s already in a pile of shit, his Father no doubt covering for him and trying to figure out where the hell he is. He called Peter for real while Billy went to get them food. He had explained the basics, keeping details short, not even trusting him with the truth. Peter had been kind, like he always is, telling Steve that whatever was going on with him he just hoped he could figure it out and come back home. Steve had felt tears prick behind his eyes while he listened to Peter talking in his slow, soothing voice. He’s a good guy, kind, everything Steve should want. But he’s not Billy. No one would ever do it for Steve like Billy does, and it hurts his heart that something that feels so right is slipping from his grasp with every minute that ticks by.

He broods as Billy checks himself in at the storage place’s reception desk. Steve stands, eyes casting up and down the quiet street. The place is a huge warehouse in the middle of Sand City, all quiet streets and industrial. It feels eerie and Steve can’t shake the feeling he’s being watched.

Billy jiggles the keys at him and jerks his chin for Steve to follow him. He goes with jittering nerves, watching Billy’s shoulders as he walks through the lines of the storage huts, all locked shut by big, metal doors. Billy counts the numbers under his breath as he goes and Steve keeps glancing over his shoulder, back to where the Beamer sits parked out on the street.

“265, here it is,” Billy says and bends down, unlocking the padlock and tossing they keys to Steve to catches them haphazardly.

He grunts as he pulls the heavy gate up and Steve blinks as Billy steps into the space and throws on the lights.

The Camaro takes up most of the space, looking dusty and abandoned but Billy still whistles at it, rubs his hands over the faded blue and smiles.

“Hello, baby,” he purrs and it makes Steve smile.

“I’ll be surprised if that thing even starts up.”

Billy throws him an offended look and he chuckles, “rude, my baby never fails me. She’ll be roaring back to life in no time, just you watch.”

There’s a few boxes filled with books, some clothes, records and a safe box tucked into the underside of the driver’s seat in the Camaro. Billy tugs it out and slides a second key into the lock. It’s filled with money. Not much, maybe a thousand or so, from what Steve can see. Billy nods and locks it shut again, sliding a few bills into his pocket and tucks it into the boot.

They fill the car with the boxes, sorting through stuff Billy doesn’t want or need and keeping what he deems valuable. They’re quiet and contemplative and Steve’s head is up his ass, trying hard not to cast too many glances at the entrance to the locker.

“Remember this?” Billy says suddenly, holding up an old, dust coated leather jacket.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you still have that.”

Billy shrugs it on, it’s a little tight around his arms and cuts off at his wrists but it’s a familiar look that Steve doesn’t even know he has missed. Billy bats at the arms, dust billowing in the air around him, making him cough.

“Jesus, it must smell like old damp,” Steve complains as he comes closer, thumbing at the collar and Billy just grins.

“It smells like cigarettes and good, old leather.”

Steve rolls his eyes at Billy’s grinning and tugs the last box into the camaro’s boot. Billy digs around in the glove box and pulls out a notebook, the keys and to Steve’s horror a gun.

“What the hell are you doing with that?” he hisses at him, rounding the bonnet to glare at him.

“It’s just a precaution, relax Steve.”

“You better be careful with that thing, if you get caught with that you’re dead.”

Billy gets out the camaro and tucks the gun into the back of his jeans and thumbs through the notebook, “if I get caught a gun on me isn’t going to make a difference. I’ll be dead either way.”

He says it like he’s just commenting on the weather and it does nothing to soothe Steve’s nerves.

“Look, I need to go make a call to this guy, can you finish up in here?”

Steve nods and Billy hurries off to use the phone at the reception. Steve sighs and clears away the boxes with stuff Billy deems unimportant, shoving them against the back wall to make room for the Camaro to get out of the huge space. The sun has long since set, the dark creeping in and lights lining the lockers illuminate the space in an eerie glow.

He sits in the Camaro and pulls out his smokes, lighting one and settling in against the old leather and sighs out the smoke. He’s missed this old piece of junk. The amount of memories he’s got in this thing, parked up on the Quarry, he and Billy squashed into the back seats, low music playing from the stereo as they kissed lazily and let the hours tick by. He smiles as memories flash through his mind and he slides into the driver’s seat, suddenly wanting to hear the sound of the engine. He used to spend nights pacing around in his house, ears peeled for the signature roll of the engine coming into his neighbourhood, promising Billy’s arrival. It makes him think of the first time he ever saw Billy. Back on the first say of senior year, the roar of the Camaro freezing all of Hawkins High in their steps as every head turned to watch the gleaming blue come rolling in to the parking lot.

He stubs out the end of his smoke and tosses the butt out the window, smiles as he remembers the sight of Billy, _Scorpions_ blaring on his radio as he stepped out onto the gravel of the parking lot. Steve’s world had ground to a halt at him standing there, wrapped up in denim, golden curls and golden skin shining even in Hawkins’ dreary clouds, looking like a God among the high school rabble. That was when the trouble had all started and it was the day Steve had first fell in love with him.

He slides the keys into the ignition and turns, grinning when the camaro roars to life, rumbling sweet beneath him. He runs his hands over the faded leather of the steering wheel and breathes in the smell of Billy, soaked into the fabric of the car.

A loud noise startles him, has him jerking in his seat, banging his knee on the underside of the dashboard as scrambles out of the car.

Another loud noise and Steve’s blood runs cold when he realises its gun shots.

He darts to the entrance of the locker just as Billy appears, flushed and breathless, looking wild and terrified as he shoves Steve back into the space, plasters him against the wall and holds the gun in both hands.

“Jesus, Billy what the hell is going on?”

Billy shakes his head, chest heaving, “I called my guy. He died three years ago. I’m fucking stuck here. Then three guys crashed their way into the place and shot the receptionist. He didn’t even get time to stand up, he just died right in front of me.”

Billy’s voice is borderline hysterical, eyes darting around wildly as he peeks around the side of the locker opening.

“Billy -”

“It’s my Dad. I saw him. He’s here.”

Steve’s blood runs cold. His heart thunders in his chest and he grabs on to Billy’s arm, the fear of something happening to him seizing him more than ever.

“Billy, please, be careful.”

Billy rolls his eyes, takes a deep breath and plants his feet, “baby, I’m always careful.”

Steve bites back the retort and just watches as Billy leans around the corner. A shot rings out and he hisses and jumps back, plastering his body to the wall and sighs.

“Jesus, they’re down the end of the corridor.”

“Billy, what are we going to do?”

Billy sighs and looks around. There’s nothing but junk in the room. Steve wishes he has a gun. He would feel better with a gun. Something to make him feel less useless. His eyes slide to Camaro, still with her engine ticking in the centre of the space.

“Billy.”

“Shh, Steve, I’m trying to think.”

“Billy -”

“- Not now!”

“Billy!” he hisses, thudding his hand against his arm until he turns to him.

He nods his head towards the Camaro and Billy’s eyes widen in understanding.

“Okay, stay low and quiet,” he says, hand on Steve’s back as they crouch and creep towards the car. Steve’s ears are trying to pick up every little thing, he feels loud and clumsy to his own ears.

“Billy boy, come out here and face me like a man.”

He jerks, the voice sounds closer than he expected, his father shouting to them from the end of the corridor.

Billy slides himself into the driver’s seat and closes the door softly behind him. Steve’s never seen him like this. He’s quiet and his eyes wide, his brain going a mile a minute behind his eyes. He’s shaking and Steve can see the true fear coursing through him. All because of his goddamn father. Steve grits his teeth. He wants this over. He never wants to see Billy scared like this ever again.

“Stay low,” Billy whispers, bending down as he shifts into gear. Steve follows his command, pulling the door shut softly beside him and Billy hands him the gun.

“What? I’ve never shot a gun in my life!”

Billy grabs him, forces his eyes to him, “Steve. You can do this. I know you can. Just stay calm and stay low, your life is a million times more important than these guys. If you can take a shot then do it. But keep yourself safe.”

Steve nods and Billy gives him a small, reassuring smile.

“Whatever happens, I love you and I’m sorry for everything that’s happened. If we get out of this, I’m making up for the fifteen years.”

Steve smiles, holds the gun firmly and feels warm, “you better. I’m expecting to be a pro surfer within a year.”

Billy grins and surges forwards to kiss him. Steve kisses him back, borderline desperate and fights the whine when Billy pulls back. He clicks the hand break lose, letting the car roll forwards to the entrance. Steve licks his lips, shrugs down in the seat and takes a deep breath.

When the car reaches the entrance, Billy floors it, tyres screeching on the ground and he turns the wheel, skidding out into the corridor between lockers and races forwards. Steve can see the guys down the end of the corridor, guns raised and shots ring out.

Steve yelps, ducks down in the seat and Billy shifts gear. The car lurches forwards and the car screeches, the guys darting out of the way as they race past.

A window smashes and glass rains down on Steve and he ducks, another window smashing and the sound of bullets clinking against the metal. A loud bang sounds and the car lurches, another loud noise then another and Steve realises in horror that they’ve shot out the tyres. The car skids on the floor and they’re spinning. They come to a hard halt against a wall, the loud crunch of metal filling the air and Steve is thrown to the side, smashing his face into something solid and hard and his vision dims.

Everything sounds like its underwater. His vision swoops and blurs and his head feels like it is ringing. He blinks over to where Billy is crumpled against the console, blood soaking his curls to his head and he’s not moving. Fear seizes him and he groans as he tries to move, pain flashing behind his eyes as he reaches over, curling a hand into that old, worn leather jacket.

The door on Billy’s side is thrown open and Steve jerks. Neil’s face swims into view, his hand lashes out and grabs at Billy, hauls him out of the car to a heap on the floor.

“No – no.”

Neil glares at him, “you’re that faggot boyfriend of his from Hawkins. Should have known he’d drag you into this.”

Steve lashes out but his legs are stuck, tangled in the bent metal of the car, pinned to the wall. His only way out is past Neil.

He watches helplessly as Neil sniffs, spits on the floor by Billy and tugs off his jacket, throwing it aside. Billy mentioned once his father was military and Steve can see the rolling muscle beneath his shirt. Can see it in the straight stance, the planting of his feet, the way he braces himself for a fight.

Billy groans and moves and Steve sags in relief.

“Get up, boy. I want to look into your face when I do this.”

He grabs Billy by the hair and pulls him up. Billy yelps in pain and is forced to his knees.

“Stop it! Stop!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Neil barks at Steve, looking wild and terrifying as he glares into the car at him, “I’m going to kill this sack of shit boy of mine. And then, you’re next.”

He throws a kick at Billy who buckles, doubling over in pain and retches as he aims another kick at his stomach.

“Get up, boy! Get up and fight me, pussy!”

Steve feels sick and powerless. His head rings, pain thunders through his head and he scrabbles about, desperately tries to rid himself from the car.

Billy stumbles to his feet, limping and covered in broken glass and blood. His father looks into his face, his own twisting in disgust and he punches him, hard. Billy goes stumbling back, body thumping against the side of the car and the three guys behind him stand and watch on, guns trained on Billy, grinning at the show.

Steve shifts, the gun still in his hand, he tries to aim but he’s hit his head bad. His vision swoops and his grip is too lose. Neil notices his movements and his hand lashes out, grabs the gun from his grip easily and tosses it over his shoulder to go skittering across the ground. He growls and punches Steve hard.

Steve reels, pain flaring across his face and he tastes blood in his mouth.

“No – don’t fucking touch him.”

Billy’s voice echoes to him in the darkness that threatens to take over his vision and he sounds awful. He’s sobbing, fighting against his father’s hold who has him by the throat now.

“We’re ending this now, boy,” Neil hisses, cocking his own gun and raises it to press against Billy’s jaw.

Steve watches, feeling completely helpless in the seat, legs flaring in pain and all he can do is stare in horror through the driver’s door as Neil grins.

Blue and red lights fill his vision.

Shouts of voices call out to them and he can see men in uniform filing into the place.

“Police! Drop your weapons and get on the ground!”

Steve reels, hears a shot and sees Billy’s body fall to the ground.

He screams but he can’t hear himself. He can feel it, feel his throat protest in pain as he screams as Neil turns and lunges at someone running at him.

His head swoops his stomach lurches and he feels himself sinking into the seats. Blue and red is all he sees before his vision fails him and he slips into the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey, kid, you with me?”

Billy groans, white light filling his vision as he tries to open his eyes.

“Billy.”

He nods and grunts, pain flaring across his body as he comes to.

“’M not a kid anymore, chief.”

He hears a chuckle and a hand comes to his arm, big and solid, helping him sit up.

“Yeah, well I’m not much of a chief anymore.”

He blinks as his vision clears, settling back against the comfiest pillows he’s felt in a long time.

Hopper sits by his bed, dressed in flannel and jeans, looking way too layered up for sunny California’s weather.

“Good to see you, Hop.”

He smiles, the lines of his face deepening. His hair and beard is dusted with white, he looks older, but better than the last time Billy saw him. He’s lost some weight, his skin has lost the tiredness is used to carry. He looks healthier, younger and yet older. A gold band flashes on his hand as he runs his fingers through his hair and Billy smiles.

“Married life suits you.”

Hopper chuckles again, thumbing at his ring, “yeah, well, I figured it was about time I got it right. Joyce says hi. She wanted to come, jumped up the first moment Steve called.”

Billy nods, “thought he did. Knew nothing I could say would stop him.”

Hopper frowns, “why didn’t you call me, Billy? I could have helped you out of this mess years ago.”

Billy shrugs and grimaces as pain flares across his abdomen, “didn’t want to get you lot involved. You did enough for me, back in the day.”

Hopper nods but Billy can see the look in his eyes that says he’s not entirely happy with Billy going it alone.

“Well, might as well tell you that we had our own operation running back at home.”

Billy frowns, head feeling clearer now the rest of his body has woken up.

Hopper smiles, “you really think Max would just let you disappear for all those years? She’s been hounding me since you left. You think I managed to do all this on my own?”

Billy smiles, fingering at the bed sheets. Typical Max. Can’t just let him get into trouble all by himself.

“She here?”

The chief nods, “of course, she’s the one that booked the flights. Pretty much from the minute I put down the phone. Was ready to come here without me.”

Billy grins, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.

“What now? I got cops outside wanting to bring me in for Oregon?”

“Nah,” Hopper says in a sigh, leaning back in his seat, “I got that all cleared up. Turns out the guys working at the Witness Protection Program were taking bribes from your Dad, wiped your records and kept them informed on your locations. Confessed to it pretty much as soon as the Cali police showed up to question them.”

Billy sits up, hope budding in his chest for the first time.

“So, I’m clean? Where’s my Dad?”

“Well, my guys caught him red-handed attempting to kill you and security footage from the place filled in any of the blanks. Don’t worry, Billy. He’s put away for good.”

Billy sags back against the pillows. The pain isn’t so bad anymore. He feels lighter than he has in years.

“Should have got the son of a bitch back in Hawkins. Should have watched you more closely.”

Billy smiles, “you had your hands full, Hop. It worked out okay in the end.”

“Sure, but could have done with having you around for the past fifteen years. You’ve been missed.”

Billy warms at that. He’s missed the gang. The first kind of family he’s ever really had. First real friends. He would laugh to himself, that the realest people he’s ever known are those bunch of kids he used to sneer at.

The door flies open and a blur of read streaks its way over to Billy. He grunts as a body collides with his side, hands holding him firmly.

Max pulls away and smiles down at him. Billy stares in awe.

She’s so grown up. She’s taller her face still the same, still that blazing red hair of hers. She’s grown into a stunning woman and Billy can only stare as she thumps at his arm and berates him for the past fifteen years.

“I mean seriously? Did you really think I didn’t think something was up? You take off then Neil does a few weeks later and I don’t hear from either of you for years? You think Steve was the only one looking for you?”

Shit. Steve.

“Steve.”

Hopper gets to his feet, holding his hand out to Billy, “he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s resting just now. That car crash really did a number on him.”

“Jesus, can I see him?”

“Hey, hey, don’t cream your pants, I’m here.”

Billy’s eyes fly to the door as Steve wheels in, seated in a wheel-chair. His face is a mess; black eye, cut up around his eye and bandages across his forehead. His lip is split and his legs are encased in heavy gauze. He smiles up at Billy as he wheels closer, looking pretty somehow even battered and bruised.

“Steve.”

Steve thumps his hand against Billy’s arm as he nears, “you scared the shit out of me, dropping like that.”

Billy recoils and remembers suddenly his father’s hand around his throat, his vision going black as his fingers squeezed strong, the red and blue lights blurring as his Father turned to them, fingers squeezing harder until the black encased his vision. He remembers jerking his head as he pulled the trigger, the shot ringing out behind him, deafening in his ear as his father released him, his legs giving out and sinking to the ground. He remembers Steve’s scream as everything went black.

“Well, if you knew how to shoot a gun, you could have saved me, King Steve.”

Steve grins, “maybe if you learned to drive like a normal person, I could think straight.”

Billy laughs, feeling it hurt his throat and his ribs. Steve slides his hand into Billy’s and squeezes his fingers, pretty brown eyes sparkling with tears, smiling all bright like the fourth of July.

“Okay, I’ve got some paperwork to get done, I’ll leave you guys to it,” Hopper says, getting up out of his chair and smiling to them as he crosses the room.

“Jim,” he stops at the door looking back at Billy, “thank you.”

He smiles and ducks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Max plops down on the end of the bed, tucking her legs up beneath her and Steve leans over the bed, pressing his head against Billy’s chest.

“Jesus, I feel rough.”

“Well, you did have a concussion,” Max says, tossing her long hair over her shoulder.

Steve nods, his head joggling Billy a bit and making his ribs hurt but he couldn’t care less, lifts his hand to finger through that lovely soft, brown hair.

He feels lighter than air. He feels like he’s on top of the world. He’s free. No Dad to hunt him, no places to run to. He can go anywhere. Do anything. He looks down at Steve, resting against his chest, up at Max, smiling at him. He can see his life inform of him for the first time in a long time. He can plan a life with Steve. He can visit Max whenever he wants, he can go back to Hawkins and see the rest of the gang. He can walk down the street without worrying about the faces that pass him by. He can get a decent job, a house, he can life a normal life. Its more than he ever hoped he could have. He feels happier than he has in a long time, not since the first time Steve kissed him up on the Quarry and set his world on fire.

“Hey, Max,” Steve mumbles, voice muffled from being pressed into Billy’s side.

"Yeah?"

“Did you know Billy worked as a hairdresser?”

“Oh my _God_.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

 

 

 

V

 

The sun beats down on them, high in the sky. They’ve been out here for hours.

The gulls fill the air with their noise, joining the sounds of the roaring waves as they rise and crash onto the golden sand. Music plays from somewhere nearby and children laugh as they play by the water’s edge.

Billy sits astride his board, the sun heating his water-glistening skin as he laughs, throwing his head back with it as he watches Steve flail and fall into the water for the millionth time that day.

“Jesus Christ, why is it so goddamn hard just to stand up?”

“You’re leaning forwards too much and stop flailing your arms about. Plant your feet.”

Steve shakes the water from his hair and climbs back out, sitting astride his board again and rubs at his face.

“You make it look so easy, I think you’re just a bad teacher.”

Billy chuckles and leans down to press his stomach against the board, using his hands to paddle his way over to Steve. He links his legs around his as he nears, anchoring him to him, sitting up on his board and grinning at him all sun-kissed skin and pretty brown eyes.

“You’ve got all the time in the world to learn.”

Steve smiles at him, leans over to kiss him, a quick press of his wet lips against Billy’s before reeling back, frowning down at his board as it threatens to tip him back into the water.

“Come on,” Billy says, eyeing a wave as it nears, “try again.”

He turns his board and lies flat, seeing Steve follow his lead beside him. The water surges and drags beneath him, he can hear to rush of foam as the wave builds and he digs his hands deep, paddling against the current.

He kicks up onto his feet when the water surges up and plants his stance, leaning to the side as his board glides down the wave, skittering like magic across the shining aqua surface.

He finds his balance easily and looks to Steve and lets out a whoop when he sees him managing to stand, flailing a little before squaring his feet and bending low to balance. His face is set in serious determination. He kicks as his board picks up momentum and they’re gliding together, soaring with the wave.

“I’m doing it! Jesus, Billy, I’m doing it!”

Billy grins and presses his board in against the wave as it crashes and falls, feels the current throw him off and Steve yelps, arms flying out and grabs onto Billy, pulling him off his board and into the water.

He kicks and swims back to the surface. He shakes his head and fishes for his board beside him, his hair longer than its ever been, coating itself to his neck and back as he pulls himself back up to sit.

“That was awesome!” Steve shouts as he hauls himself up onto his own board, grinning and laughing, hair slicked to his head, eyes shining bright, pretty face happier than Billy’s ever seen it.

“Told you, I’m an amazing teacher,” Billy says with a smirk, wringing out his hair and shaking it behind him, feeling strands stick to his back and his arms, tangling with the necklace that glints on his chest.

“Come on,” Steve calls, already pivoting his board around, “go again.”

Billy grins and digs his hand into the water, paddling after Steve as another wave swells.


End file.
